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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654056">Stubborn Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_Wrexed/pseuds/Get_Wrexed'>Get_Wrexed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(oh my god they were true mates), A/B/O, Alpha Aziraphale (Good Omens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Downton Abbey Fusion, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Beta Hastur, Edwardian Period, Fluff and Angst, Friendly Beelzebub, Friendly Gabriel, Ineffable Bureaucracy, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Nobility, Omega Crowley (Good Omens), Omega Verse, True Mates, Turn of the Century, alpha beelzebub, and they were true mates, like it was inspired by both of those not gonna pretend otherwise, watch me bastardize history to make it ABO</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:09:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>68,280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_Wrexed/pseuds/Get_Wrexed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Aziraphale Fell, the Viscount of Whitefeather Manor and heir for the title of Earl of Sussex is a reserved, persnickety fellow much more fond of literature than the tedious song and dance of noble society. Although he is in need of a mate, he is plagued with the residual fear of a heartbreak several years past. Lord Anthony Crowley, the youngest and only Omega child of the Earl and Countess of Sutherland, is a wild, untamable thing with a propensity for outspokenness and mischief, underscored by an intriguing disregard for etiquette despite the good breeding and education to know far better.</p><p>Both are faced with the newfound knowledge that a True Mate awaits them out in the world, and are faced with the question: shall they remain in search for their destined partner, the other half of their soul? Or shall they forge ahead and write their own destiny? </p><p>*** The turn-of-the-century nobility True Mates Omegaverse AU literally nobody asked for ***</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Omens Human AUs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some Worldbuilding/Terminology info</p><p>-Literally turn of the century, this fic is placed in 1902<br/>-Sex/gender is not a differentiating factor for status, but secondary gender is.<br/>-In Britain, titles are passed on to the next Alpha child, rather than the next male child.<br/>-True Mates are rare to the point of being considered myth by most.<br/>-If you're a big "peerage" buff you might acknowledge that Aziraphale would be called "Lord Whitefeather" and Beelzebub would be called "Lord Nead Nathair", based off their Viscount titles, but for this AU, that won't be the case. It's too impersonal  ;P <br/>Lord/Lady Omega- a title used to differentiate Omegas from Alphas, often a courtesy title. The equivalent of the courtesy title "Lady" in non ABO history. The "Omega" is dropped when speaking to the person referenced. A person may be introduced as "The Lord/Lady Omega *first name*". The Omega children of an Earl are always given this courtesy title.<br/>Lord/Lady Alpha- similarly, used to differentiate Alphas. Rarely used, unless introducing the topic of the person mentioned and establishing their status. The oldest Alpha child is addressed using their surname in the South, and their given name in the North, similar to their Omega siblings.<br/>The Honorable- a precursor used for any Beta children of Earls, or any Alphas who are not the heir. They do not receive the "Lord/Lady" courtesy title.<br/>Ama- term used for an Omega parent, regardless of gender, used in place of "Mama/Papa"<br/>Apa- term used for an Alpha parent, regardless of gender, used in place of "Mama/Papa"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A pattern was established early on in which every significant occurrence in Lord Aziraphale Fell’s life, particularly if they were to alter the path of his destiny, began and ended in a library. The moment he learned his alphabet. The initiation of his training to grow into his title of Viscount Whitefeather as the oldest Alpha child of his mother, Lady Celeste Fell, Countess of Sussex. The meeting of his first literary tutor. The discovery of Oscar Wilde. His proposal to the Omega he was sure would bear his pups and give him a lifetime of happiness. The discovery that his sweetheart had scandalously spent heat with another Alpha, successfully bred, and would naturally be marrying off with him instead. </p><p>The months after Aziraphale had spent emerging himself in tale after tale in faraway lands and realities that were not his own, until he felt brave enough to face society again. </p><p>Most recently, the delivery of a book from his Apa upon her return from visiting his distant cousin and dear friend, Lady Anathema Device, to welcome her back to England after her recent acquisition of the title of Countess and to aid her in getting a grip of her responsibilities after the unlikely sequence of deaths that resulted in her becoming the heiress. She’d informed him that Anathema had hosted many unwanted guests who were also visiting under the mission of offering their help, mainly as she was still relearning the tediousness of English high society after her several years spent with insouciant, modern Americans, and hadn’t realized she’d accepted their invitations. Lady Sussex had stayed to aid her in ridding them all from her manor as she was unparalleled in the art of navigating High Society. </p><p>Anathema had sent along a letter with his Apa informing him that the book had traded over-indulgent hands of guests in such an elaborate fashion that she had feared she’d lost it- a signed first-edition of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. The story of her visitors’ horrific ignorance towards its value shook him nearly as deeply as she had hoped it might, which he was sure would bring her great delight upon receiving his answering letter. </p><p>That wasn’t the life-altering bit, naturally. He’d read the book when he was at the very least a decade younger, and while he would cherish this book as a lovely gift from a dear friend, it was not the most valuable in his collection. However, as he scanned its contents, he <em> did </em>discover the most valuable gift of his life- not in words, but in the pheromones of an Omega’s oil smeared on a page.</p><p>A single waft, even with the scent so distant it was unidentifiable, and time was stopped.</p><p>His heart beat louder, angrier, like a powerful drum heralding the approach of some unstoppable force. His mind grew dizzy and dazed, his chest light as a feather. For all he was good for and all in his name, he would swear it was love. Love, stronger than he’d ever felt it. Stronger than he knew a man could. </p><p>The phenomenon sent him straight into a protective frenzy. An innate, angry need to hide away and keep safe an Omega who, to his immense, horrible heartbreak, was not to be found. An Omega who he was unlucky enough to find entirely anonymous. </p><p>So began the most lonely, intense rut of his life. </p><p>When it had been over and he was quite done snapping at any relatives who threw him commentary too off the mark, locking himself away, and catering to himself with no little amount of bitterness and disdain, he realized a rut like that could only be brought on by one thing.</p><p>The discovery of his True Mate. </p><p>Perhaps such idle fantasy was as good as fiction in their society- not because it was impossible (although it was rare enough to border on rumor), but because it was <em> dangerous. </em>The offending aroma could easily be the mark of a servant. Or an Omega who had already mated. Or anyone from within a myriad of unsuitable possibilities of True Mate for a Viscount. Then again, Aziraphale did not spend the vast majority of days with his nose in a book because he favored reality.  </p><p>And for whatever enthusiasm he may have lacked about tracking down the Omega, his parents made up for it in spades. It was insisted to him quite fervently that five years was quite enough time to get over being scorned by scandal, and that he must leave the manor and refresh himself. His father and Omega parent, a scholar in his own right (although not without opposition) had very generously arranged for him to tour universities throughout Britain, that he might guest speak at literary seminars and have exciting discussions with fellow intellectuals.  It would be a several months long journey that took him all the way through the Highlands. Admittedly, he found it quite superfluous to travel so far into the country. His Apa had also, very generously, arranged for him to stay with fellow members of the peerage on his way. Aziraphale did his best to have faith in his mother, however it was not lost on him that each family of each manor or castle or park to which he was invited, by some incredible coincidence, had an unmarried and eligible Omega in the family. </p><p>If his parents had truly wished for him a reinvigorating escape across Britain, they were not wholly successful. It was true, each seminar and lecture and discussion would light his intellect ablaze. His heart would feel full at the discussion of literary styles, the value of satire and social commentary, and the scandalous material new authors seemed to be entertaining more with each passing year. Then he would go on to his lodgings, and dinner after dinner, day after day, have an Omega dangled before him. </p><p>Even if he were keen on giving them a chance, it was unlikely he would take interest in any one of them. They ranged from vain and aloof to painfully bland archetypes of the quiet, demure Omega who couldn’t hold a conversation worth having. Their families would no doubt find themselves so clever for the introduction, as if Aziraphale wouldn’t see through its transparency as easily as he might peer out an open window. Then there would be the Lady Omegas flaunted before them, though it would never take much preening before the discovery of their mistake had been made. </p><p>Not that Aziraphale didn’t find the company of lady Omegas perfectly pleasant, it was simply that he could not dream of forming the strong passion and mating bond required for a successful marriage with any one of them the way he might with gentlemen Omegas.</p><p>It was all frankly quite exhausting. He couldn’t say he truly cared much for the social decorum around courtship and mating. After an Omega was claim marked, the pair could be fairly outright with their affections and scenting, while anything less than an engagement restricted so much as a graze of skin to skin contact. The family would flaunt their Omega, their manners and good breeding, and of course, the participation of the Omega was nearly always forced, which Aziraphale never had a good mind for supporting. He wanted a partner, after all. A mate. An intellectual equal. Not a trophy husband who only tolerated him. </p><p>After months of travel, he had reached his final destination, Nead Nathair Castle. </p><p>Good lord, was it a sight to behold.</p><p>It was deep in the Scottish Highlands, near the cliffs of the coast in the county of Sutherland. A great gothic castle nestled in the hillside and heavily wooded. Where its original architecture had failed, it had been refurbished with the tudor styled half-timbered walls. Then again, it appeared to have later additions inspired by early Victorian architecture, high spires and rounded rooms. It was an architectural marvel, and a far cry from the renaissance architecture manor settled on wide green lawns that he called home at Whitefeather Manor. </p><p>An undefinable mystery hung over it, heavier than the white cotton clouds drifting by. It was reminiscent of no short amount of the endless tales the Viscount had consumed in his lifetime- promising something enticing and wonderous.  It tempted Aziraphale, deeply, and despite the heavy exhaustion from his trip, he managed to build some semblance of excitement for his stay. </p><p>A terrible storm had delayed his arrival a day, and upon his carriage’s approach up the steep hillside to the great castle drive, he felt a minor mortification when he checked the time and discovered it was just before dinner time. Several footmen rushed forth to take his luggage to his room. There would be no family reception due to the time, but the butler, while quiet and stringent, assured the dressing gong had only just been rung. To his further despair, he was told there would be a private dance held that evening- a fact he was positive his Ama knew <em> quite </em>well upon planning his lodging. </p><p>Luckily he had the appropriate attire packed, having anticipated something of this nature, and took the time to have his valet remind him of details about the Crowley family. </p><p>Lord and Lady Sutherland had three children, he recalled. The eldest was a Beta son, The Honorable Hastur Crowley. The birth of a Beta in a noble family was an incredibly rare occurrence, and generally it was seen as an unfortunate turn of events. They had no titles, and it was even rarer that they might be used to marry off and form some sort of alliance. Then there was their heiring Alpha, Lord Beatrix Elizabeth Crowley, the Viscount Nead Nathair. He had occasionally heard gossip that was equally fond and scandalous in nature referring to her as “Beelzebub”. High society loved her as a constant source of daring social pushes, not unlike it loved his own Apa when she was a young, eligible bachelorette. Beatrix demanded to be addressed as a man in all but pronouns. She was quiet and sly and dangerous and when she spoke it was said that one would do best to listen. In that regard, she took after her father, Lord Lucius Crowley, Earl of Sutherland. </p><p>Then there was their youngest, the Lord Omega who Aziraphale was quite sure he’d been informed had come out formally about a decade ago. Such scandal with his two older siblings left his name often forgotten, and thus any regard to him usually dwindled to the moniker, “Crowley”. He was said to have a silver tongue, sharpened to be more deadly than a sword. The appeal of this tended to rely on the person heading the topic. Most Alphas who had gone uncoupled would suggest he was an ill-mannered, narcissistic thing that took a deep admiration to hearing himself talk. Many Omegas, Betas, and mated Alphas would suggest that while the youngest Crowley truly did toe across lines of etiquette quite liberally, he had such a natural charm and an incredibly clever wit that might excuse his transgressions in spades. Everyone, whether loathe or eager to admit it, found themselves ceding that he was quite the beauty, the pianist, and the debater. Naturally, only the last quality made him the subject of disapproval. </p><p>The pattern didn’t lose itself on Aziraphale. It was a tragic truth that Omegas who dared have a personality and be particular when choosing there to bestow their affections might be scorned by society. Personally, it made him curious to know this young Crowley, to perhaps find the company of an Omega in which intelligent discussion could be shared. </p><p>He was relieved to meet the kind face of a woman who he rightly assumed to be Lilith Crowley, the Lady of Sutherland. She had a charismatic and warm demeanor, quite the contrast to her Alpha, who carried an air of both boredom and danger. The Lord of Sutherland, Lucius Crowley, looked quite severe, with his dark hair, peppered with grey, and eyes that looked a rich gold, almost orange in most light. He had a scent so strong it put Aziraphale on edge. He appeared as if he might rather be in Hell itself. Still, he had a clear adoration of his wife that lightened his scent in troves. They appeared to share a very strong bond, and one sniff of her might inform that she had been heavily scented by her husband very recently. Under her gentle, doe-eyed urging, Lord Sutherland welcomed Aziraphale very kindly, taking his apologies for his tardiness and reassuring him no harm was done.</p><p>They were all seated at the table, and Aziraphale spotted a very appropriate balance of Alphas and Omegas. A few of the more daring Omegas went without scent patches, a move that had only very recently become acceptable for their secondary gender in high society. There was something wonderful about it in Aziraphale’s opinion, something that balanced out the overbearingly heavy aroma of over a dozen Alpha’s scents weighing down on the room, something that lightened and freshened it, taking the ever-present edge off of socializing. </p><p>Aziraphale was seated near a young female Omega, Lady Hazel Dormer, who smelled like sugar and hosted an incredibly chatty, bubbly disposition. Naturally, he made an admirable effort to engage in conversation, but found they held very little in common. Instead, he listened to her chatter on about the newest French fashions with her other neighbor as he allowed his eyes to scan the table. </p><p>Across the way and a few seats down sat a man who he assumed to be the youngest Crowley, also unhindered by patches and leaving his scent to drift. The rumors about his appearance had been true. Even in the dim room, he shined like a precious jewel. He shared his mother’s rich red hair, though his own was cut short and styled immaculately above his head, a golden wreath nestled among his locks. He had a suntanned complexion, spackled with an entire galaxy of freckles. His face was made up of sharp angles and slim curves, except his nose, which was hooked just so. He appeared to be engaging in polite discussion with an Omega across the table, ignoring the red-faced Alpha to his right, looming over him in irritation in a way that filled Aziraphale with the impulse to intervene.</p><p>Aziraphale took care not to allow his gaze to dwindle, but when he glanced back, his breath was knocked out of him as he found the young Crowley’s eyes meeting his own. They were deep wells of life and intelligence, each one a different color that the Alpha couldn’t quite grasp given the distance between them. The Omega gave a sly, knowing grin that made Aziraphale’s face heat in embarrassment. When he braved a look back, Crowley was politely looking down at his plate, long lashes on display. His no doubt cutting-edge fashion wasn't entirely subject to Aziraphale's observation given the angle, but it was a sheer black fabric that formed the sleeves, giving a glimpse of the skin the whole length of his arms down to his long, slender fingers, ungloved to eat. Aziraphale tried to ignore the heat that coursed through him. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen a handsome Omega before. Surely, it was only due to the impropriety of a High Society Omega wearing <em>sheer clothing</em>, even if it was only on his arms.</p><p>Luckily, to his other side sat Lady Sutherland. She regaled him with stories of her and his mother’s shared puphood, spent together with a multitude of fond memories made. She made a point of sparing him from the more embarrassing stories of his Apa as if he was not aware that his pack Alpha had been quite an Omega's Alpha before meeting his Ama, chasing after scandal, sin, and skirts in equal measure. It became evident that Lilith Crowley was overjoyed at the concept of meeting him. They discussed his mother and his commonalities, which were few and far between despite their amicable relationship, and soon discussed his likeness to his Ama, which inevitably launched into a passionate and delightful discussion about literature. </p><p>Near the end of the meal, much to Aziraphale’s horror, he heard the Alphas on his other side discussing politics. <em> Politics, at dinner. </em>What barbaric behavior, and not at all respectful of their hostess. </p><p>“You have to be stringent,” one of them said, “You can’t make allowances. You can’t budge just because there’s a bit of kickback. Give them a little, and they’ll take a league. Can you imagine the hell this country would break into were <em> Omegas </em>given the vote?”</p><p>“Please, do tell, Mrs. Farley, what imaginings we might fear?” contributed the youngest Crowley, a perfectly pleasant smile on his face. His lower lip was especially plush, Aziraphale noted, and wet with what he assumed to be wine. How improper of him to notice. </p><p>“Must I say? The entire focus of our nation's government might be shifted to laws on bruncheon etiquette and the acceptable evolution of fashion!” </p><p>“Oh my. Quite the hypothetical. I find it of interest that there might be Alphas in parliament eager to put such riveting issues to a public vote. Were it so, I'm sure Apa might be more eager to discuss with me the ongoings of the House of Peers,” the Lord Omega shamelessly teased, a slight smile toying at the edge of his mouth that likened something much nearer a smirk than what was strictly acceptable. </p><p>Aziraphale withheld a laugh. Indeed, he saw what had been meant by the information that the young Crowley teetered on the edge of impropriety. </p><p>“That’s not the point, sweet dear,” she cooed back in an utterly infantilizing manner, “You shouldn’t have to worry about important things such as government and law. They are rather dull affairs better suited to an Alpha to attend to. They’ve nothing to do with you.” </p><p>For a moment, Aziraphale heavily believed the redhead was on the verge of crawling onto the table and plunging his dessert fork into her eye. There was a brief passing scent of burning herbs, and he wondered if the two could be attributed to one another. Still, his appearance remained perfectly postured, down to the twitching of his fingers. He was the very image of poise and grace.</p><p>“On the contrary, my dear Mrs. Farley, I believe if there is a single party to be exempt from the importance of laws, it would be Alphas of the peerage.” </p><p>“What a ridiculous thing to say,” chortled the Alpha beside him, a balding man who looked far more pleased with himself than with anything around him. For his rude behavior, Aziraphale noted he held no issue with invading the Omega’s space in a terribly improper manner and leering at his neck. As if wondering how such a thing could be excused, the blonde Alpha turned to the head of the table only to find Lord Sutherland’s irritation only targeted at his youngest child himself. There was a dark warning about it. </p><p>Unfortunately, the young Omega’s attentions were not geared towards his father. He sat upright, dignified no matter how disturbingly close his drunken neighbor hovered. </p><p>“I disagree, Sir Hadleigh. After all, I certainly fail to recall a time in which an Alpha of the peerage broke a law and was held in contempt for their transgressions. Meanwhile so much of the law is <em> about </em>Omegas rights and yet we are unable to make decisions concerning our own welfare.”</p><p>“That’s because it’s not <em> for </em> you to decide, is it, pup?” Sir Hadleigh laughed. The youngest Crowley’s face slipped, his nostril wrinkled, and for all the world it looked like he was about to snarl, all <em> before </em>the exceedingly rude Alpha said, “And that’s how it should stay. Of course you haven’t seen the law come for the ton. We’re honorable, an example for the lower class. We would never break the law to begin with.”</p><p>Something caught aflame in Crowley’s eyes. </p><p>“Is that so? I recall recently reading something of great interest suggesting otherwise. A local paper. Something about a neighboring Alpha thought to be of good standing suspected of acting within dealings of insider trading. I can’t for the life of me remember who it was… the name is on the tip of my tongue…” </p><p>
  <b> <em>“Enough.” </em> </b>
</p><p>The single Alpha command from the head of the table rendered all occupants silent. The glare Lord Sutherland drove into his youngest son might have been mistaken for the devil’s. One might think his child would burst into flame upon receiving it. He didn’t, but he did shrink into himself, words dying in his throat. His eyes grew distant and foggy, mouth faltering into a thin line. The other Alphas began chattering again very quickly, unable to be bothered by the discipline of a mouthy Omega who didn’t know his place. The topic continued to remain on how Omegas ought not to have the vote, which Aziraphale considered to be a borderline malicious choice to carry on with seeing as the one person most uncomfortable with it had been banned from speaking. Crowley remained curled into his seat, silent as he delivered a thousand-yard stare down at his food.</p><p>Aziraphale couldn’t smell Lady Sutherland due to her patches, but an expression of great distress was etched across her face, soft, sympathetic brown eyes targeted at her youngest. </p><p>“Always very spirited, our youngest,” she laughed good-naturedly, attempting to smile and pose as the perfect hostess beyond her worry. A glass full of dessert wine hung in her fingers, and she sipped daintily from it, “I would never wish to douse that flame, but it does occasionally present itself as something a bit more akin to a forest fire.” </p><p>“I think it’s really quite an admirable trait, having strong convictions,” Aziraphale comforted her, motivated by honesty. Her son was clearly an intelligent young Lord, and it was a true tragedy that his astute argument was dismissed so easily on the grounds of his secondary gender alone. “Besides, an occasional forest fire helps clear out the waste. It offers the trees a fresh chance to grow. An opportunity for life to spring forth.”</p><p>The look he got from the Lady in turn was quite a curious thing. An expression he couldn’t categorize to his satisfaction, and with her scent glands covered in patches, his capacity for hypothesis was quite reduced. He assumed- or at the very least <em> hoped- </em>that it was a positive reaction. </p><p>“You’re very kind, Lord Fell, and I will not be dissuaded in the belief that such a trait is very much a commonality with your mother. I do hope you’ll spare a dance for my youngest. I know I musn’t meddle, but I confess I am afraid the course of the evening might leave him feeling quite neglected.” </p><p>Oh good Lord. A dance. Aziraphale was a <em> frightful </em> dancer. Put a rapier in his hand and he could move as swiftly as the wind. Place him in a dance without, and he would trip over his own feet and stomp all over his partners’. He spared a glance down at Crowley, and, by the way Sir Hadleigh was leering over the poor Omega, he very much doubted that neglect was in his near future. Perhaps the youngest Crowley wished it was; Aziraphale knew he would. </p><p>Before he could open his mouth to answer Lady Sutherland, Mrs. Farley was quite loudly and quite drunkenly announcing to the table while directing her gaze at the defenseless Omega, “The main takeaway, my dear, is that filling your head with all those grand ideas will ensure you go a lifetime unmarried and unbred. It would be in your best interest to abandon them.”</p><p>The table fell silent. Aziraphale ached with a deep embarrassment on behalf of Crowley and a burning resentment for the despicable Alpha who would disrespect the hosting family in this way and exchange such a terrible, unprovoked sentiment to a fine, well-bred Lord Omega. He wasn’t alone. The room was sharp with the scent of Alphas on edge, only turned foul when mixed with the scents of un-patched Omegas that wafted forth a terrible distress in tandem. </p><p>“Oh dear,” lamented his Ama in a mortification so quiet it fell deaf upon any other than Aziraphale’s ears. </p><p>Crowley, on the other hand, seemed to take it rather well. His hand was raised, halfway to delivering a sip of water. His lips fell ajar the scantest amount. Red brows quirked in a movement so smooth and artful they likened dancing. His shoulders straightened even further. With an idle swirl of his glass, multi-colored eyes turned to Lord Sutherland. The Lord Alpha’s scent was heavy and suffocating, as if the room were being smoked out. The black abyssal pits of his eyes were fixed on the audacious guest who had dared accept a dinner invitation from his Lady Omega just to insult the rearing of his only Omega child. The woman who had the gall and ignorance to not only speak of his being <em>bred, </em>but to insinuate that he was <em>unsuitable </em>for <em>marriage </em>for being too intelligent. His dark eyes turned to the youngest of his pack, conveying some message simply in their attention. </p><p>Like a flash, his son turned his head back to the Alpha across him, set his jaw, and with unyielding, unblinking eye contact, carefully enunciated, “It is of my opinion, <em> Mrs. </em>Fawley, if I should choose between reaching an old age unwed and pupless with only my grand ideas or finding myself a slave forced to smile and look pretty amidst any Alpha who fears any other quality in an Omega outside a habit of obedience and the capacity to be bred, I should much prefer the company of the former.” </p><p>An additional shockwave of discomfort wracked the room. Oh dear, Aziraphale thought, such teeth. As a member of society, he found it a terrible behavior. As a man and an Alpha, there was something deeply attractive about an Omega that snapped back in the face of offense, unneeding and unwanting of rescue. Silence reeled on as it seemed to take Mrs. Fawley a moment to realize an Omega had the audacity to insult her in such a provocative fashion. An Alpha near Aziraphale broke the silence, bursting into laughter and turning to Lord Beatrix, who looked frankly quite delighted by the entire exchange. </p><p>“Gracious! Your brother does entertain! I must gain his favor for a dance.” </p><p>The small yet intimidating Alpha turned to him, cocking a brow and grinning in a bone-chilling fashion that likened bearing her teeth, and goodness, her canines were sharp, “If you do believe my little brother intends to entertain, I shouldn’t think you’d survive a dance in the unlikely event that you were granted one.” </p><p>Aziraphale didn’t miss the way Crowley grinned and snickered into his glass. </p><p>“My!” Lady Sutherland exclaimed, setting down her glass of dessert wine, the contents of which were hardly scathed, “Such an exciting conversation. I’m sure the Alphas have quite a bit of debate ahead of them. Shall we go through, Omegas?” </p><p>The way she stood directly after lodged the inquiry suggested the question was not a true one. Naturally the Alphas all stood not a moment after she had, watching the Omegas trickle from the room one by one before taking their seats again, all except Mrs. Fawley who, after a quiet discussion with Lord Sutherland, excused herself with a quivering voice and a pale face to resign to her room. The atmosphere lightened after the offending Alpha was exiled from the pack. The tone appeared to be set, though now in much more polite company, Aziraphale had a delightful discussion with Lady Blackwood about the growing contributions of Omega authors and poets to the literary world. Lord Beatrix soon joined, and the topic was soon shifted to Poe, then the topics of romanticization of the macabre. </p><p>Which somehow came around to the extension of an invitation, that he might join the Crowley Alphas and a couple select guests permitted to stay through the weekend on a shooting venture. The offer was much more familiar ground than dancing, certainly, and Aziraphale apologetically declined, insisting he must stick to his departure date so as not to cheat his next host of a visit after they so kindly extended their hospitality. Perhaps he wasn’t eager to meet the next Omega lined up to be flaunted before him like a show pony, but he <em> was </em>eager to get home. </p><p>As they joined the Omegas, Aziraphale couldn’t help but watch the dance space with something akin to distaste. It would be remarkably rude as an unmated Alpha not to ask any Omegas to dance, but truly, he wished with a terrible might to return to his room and read a book in quiet solitude. He was not made of such social stuff. He missed his manor. His staff. His family. His duties. His <em> library.  </em></p><p>With equal measures of luck and misery, Lady Hazel pulled him off to a corner in the hopes of flirting. She smelled of an incredible sweetness, betraying an equally incredible attraction to the Alpha, but the scent wasn’t the least bit appealing to Aziraphale. Her attempts at talking about literature were far more endearing than they were seductive, as she rambled on about the newest mundane, unrivetting romance novel of the days. Aziraphale politely guided her fumbling feet through a half-way decent analysis of its contents before Lord Beatrix stole her away for a dance with a mischievous glimmer in her eye. </p><p>In need of a new excuse to remain off the dance floor, he found one in two Alphas conspiring in the corner, sharing what he deeply hoped to have wrongly pinned as gossip concerning their host family. </p><p>“She wasn’t <em> wrong </em>was she?” the Lady Petunia was whispering, “I can’t imagine a single soul who would commit the time and devotion to court such a creature. He’s like a wild horse.”</p><p>“Well, there’s some satisfaction to be had in breaking a wild horse,” Sir Hadleigh hummed, the sentiment making Aziraphale so offended on his hostess’s behalf he tasted bile in his mouth. “Besides, he is quite a pretty thing, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Hm. He should be twice as pretty were he to keep his mouth shut,” Lady Petunia decided.</p><p>“Now, that’s not fair,” Sir Hadleigh said, much to their onlooker’s surprise, only to continue, “I should say depending on what he did with that mouth, he might look <em> thrice </em>as pretty.” </p><p>“My dear Alphas,” Aziraphale nearly spat. The pair jumped from their corner, startled at his presence behind them and the charred edge of his scent. “I do hope you are not insulting a member of our host family. It would be a great offense to the Lord Sutherland, who has allowed us to invade his home, and the Lady Sutherland, who has taken great pains to make us feel welcome, should you be truly sharing such lewd and inappropriate commentary about an Omega of their pack.” </p><p>“Oh, dear, you misunderstand us, Lord Fell,” the Lady Petunia schmoozed in a poor, botched attempt to persuade him to lower his hackles, “So far from the city, we run a bit behind the times. It is a bit of a spectacle to find such a modern Omega, thus naturally presents itself as a common topic of discussion.” </p><p>What an absolutely absurd excuse.</p><p>“We may be far from the city,” he carefully conveyed, “but I should remind you that we are very much still within a proper society. Civility is a prerequisite for participation.”</p><p>With the pair of them looking remarkably caught and thoroughly reprimanded, he excused himself into the hallway, tutting about until he ran into a footman and requested an escort to the library, which he had missed in his angry pacing. He was exhausted: socially, physically, and emotionally. If he wasn’t to share proper company that could be enjoyable and relaxing in decent measure, he found it impossible to share company at all. </p><p>The moment he was left alone in the room, his back pressed against the closed door, his head leaned back, his eyes closed, and every compounding remnant of tension lept away like a tensed coil upon release. He took a deep breath in, and his pulse quickened, his eyes flashed open, and his head grew dizzy. The aroma filling the room was by no small measure the most divine scent that had ever crossed his path. The freshest herb garden, laced heavily with lavender and hosting a strong undercurrent of mouth-watering honey. He inhaled deeply, again and again, unable to get enough of the incredible scent. It made his mind go hazed and relaxed, his limbs slacken, the troubles slip away. He walked further into the empty library and collapsed on the nearest finely upholstered, deep red velvet armchair. </p><p>“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” an unfamiliar voice remarked through the silence, accent tinged with a Scottish tilt that Aziraphale had only heard from servants thus far.</p><p>He leapt to his feet, blinking about in the dimly lit room in disbelief that the scent had calmed him to such a great extent that he’d missed the presence of an entire person in the room. At last he realized there was a figure draped out on the dark form of the chaise lounge across the room. As his eyes came into focus, he found it to be none other than the youngest Crowley, lounged into the most scandalous position Aziraphale had ever seen an Omega in polite company take. He was laid out on his side and propped against a plush pillow, one knee curled over the other long, extended leg and his wrist draping over his cocked hip. The position was practically an illustration borne straight out of erotica. </p><p>Aziraphale could see him better now. One of his eyes was a warm, rich honey, the other a dark brown with a splotch of gold through it. Gold and ruby earrings were clipped to his earlobes, accentuating his long neck. His shirt was made of dark black bands of fabric snug against his wrists, throat, and waist, all embroidered with a meticulous golden pattern and connected together with a sheer black fabric carefully draped and decorated with small golden-threaded appliques throughout. His chest and shoulders were, at the very least, covered with a black modesty slip underneath, but they might as well have been revealed with the sinful effect invoked by his tan arms beneath the sheer fabric and the impossibly tight black trousers that hugged every curve and angle down to his ankles, where dark red suede slippers encased his feet. It was a vision that perfectly matched the scent he’d been grasping after, and in a quite embarrassing awakening, he discovered the youngest Crowley had been what- or rather, <em> who- </em>he was smelling this entire time. </p><p>A second bout of unease washed over him when he realized he’d practically been standing still, staring, and salivating over the Lord Omega as if he was a piece of meat. He felt blood rush to his face, discomfort and embarrassment swirling into his scent. He bowed deeply, standing to find an amused brow dancing above the brown, honey-splattered eye.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, I hadn't noticed you,” he said politely, “What was it you were saying?”</p><p>The brow above the honey-colored eye rose alongside its twin, and something scandalously close to a smirk danced across the young Crowley’s mouth. </p><p>“I <em> said </em>that went down like a lead balloon.”</p><p>“Oh. Yes. Quite.” Aziraphale’s blue-grey eyes danced around the room, and he wondered at himself that he might be so unsettled over so simple a situation. They were alone, he told himself, of course he was unsettled. An unacquainted Alpha and Omega, both unmated and unengaged, alone in a room together when a party was going on, not a chaperone in sight or earshot.</p><p>A snort brought his attention back to the present. A <em> snort.  </em></p><p>“Easy, Lord Aziraphale. This is a worry-free zone. Check all the fussing over proper etiquette at the door. If I need to walk myself in leagues around a point for the sake of mild manners one more time, I rather think I'll opt to walk myself right off the top of the castle instead” </p><p>The Alpha nearly startled upon being called by his given name. He’d forgotten that the custom for heirs in the North was to be addressed as such. Still, it seemed only Lord Anthony was the first to make the mistake of not respecting Southern customs. His placations fell on deaf ears as Aziraphale turned back towards the door, deep in consideration over fetching a chaperone. </p><p>“And I should hope with that understanding you would not push me to such tragedy with the utterances of chaperones and proper introductions.” </p><p>The Alpha looked back at Crowley, white brows raised towards his hairline, and he stifled a surprised smile. What a strange tempter, this Omega.</p><p>“I should hate to bring you any discomfort, Lord-,” he started, realizing, to his mortification, he did not know the correct ending of the name, and most certainly couldn’t flourish his rudeness by ending it with ‘Crowley’ and betraying his ignorance. Instead, he lamely recovered by finishing it with his courtesy title, “Omega.” </p><p>A knowing smirk danced on the Omega’s face. </p><p>“Anthony,” he said, “but as you’ve agreed upon imparting such a reassurance, there’s to be no fussing over proper introduction, and thus you shall remain ignorant of that fact. Just call me Crowley. Everyone else does, anyway.”</p><p><em> Anthony, </em>the name danced through his head, a lovely thing. </p><p>“Naturally,” Aziraphale mused back, the flirting coming too natural to particularly care, “and having said I would disfavor bringing the mysterious unacquainted Lord Omega who is broadly referred to as ‘Crowley’’s discomfort, perhaps I should fetch him a drink and return it to him in some occupied place where we might conveniently become acquainted among appropriate company?”</p><p>Crowley barked a laugh, “After what I’ve just said about dancing around points and the lengths they drive me to? Really? You would tease, Lord Aziraphale?” </p><p>He didn’t seem the slightest bit upset by the fact. Instead, he seemed rather pleased. </p><p>“I could never be so cruel,” Aziraphale refused to relent.</p><p>“Hmmm,” he mused with a fond smile and the further freshening of his disarming scent, “As interesting as I find your offer, I’m afraid it is wasted on me, as I am nae permitted to drink in company.” </p><p>“Oh, I suppose it does make some ill.”</p><p>“Some, perhaps, but not all. In my case, Apa insists I don’t drink in fear that I might say something untoward in polite company,” he explained, delighted at the irony.</p><p>His grin was so positively well-pleased, so deeply charming, that Aziraphale was powerless to contain the laugh that burst forth out of him. Oh, Lord Anthony’s scent was floral as a field of wildflowers in response to his laughter, and he felt himself melt as he met the Omega’s gaze, those eyes dripping with something warmer and sweeter than the honey within them. </p><p>“I figured you were like me,” Crowley mused, pulling himself upright, sauntering over to the tall bookcases, and brushing his fingers against the rows of leather spines. Aziraphale couldn’t help but allow his eyes to fix on the sultry sway of hips. It was whiplash, the way the Omega spoke, posed, <em>moved</em>so differently than when he had only minutes ago. </p><p>“And in what traits do you find our similarities?” Aziraphale asked, realizing that in a great shift of dynamic, <em> he </em>was slowly being circled by an Omega. Crowley attempted to keep his distance at the beginning of his rounds, but, ignorant of who moved first, some invisible magnetism pulled the pair closer together. The Alpha realized with no short amount of delight that the Omega was leaning in to smell him, pupils blown wide with clear interest.</p><p>“Opening our mouths to let some weak, placating words we don’t mean fall out them. Growing tired in the ridiculous dance of it all,” he paused along the shelf nearest bookshelf to Aziraphale, pointedly pulling out a book, eyes tracing over it as he sighed, “Desiring an escape to somewhere a bit more exciting.” </p><p>“To the library?” Aziraphale attempted to confirm, taking the risk of sounding stupid to lodge a question, the importance of which this stranger could not possibly know. </p><p>“Of course,” the Omega sighed wistfully as he flipped the book open and scanned a random page. There was something longing about his face. Something a bit pained. Something deeply beautiful. “I adore peace and adventure in equal measure. The library is the single place I find myself able to satiate both inclinations simultaneously.”</p><p>“Are adventures your favorite to read?” Aziraphale asked quietly.</p><p>Despite his support of this Omega’s spark and independence, he did feel something a bit fragile about the exchange. In the midst of their unfamiliarity was a tedious ground to be walked. He found himself remiss to give Sir Hadleigh’s comparison consideration, but it really <em> was </em> a bit like breaking a wild horse. Crowley was strong-spirited, quick-tempered, and skittish. Trust had to be gained before one would be allowed near. </p><p>“They are,” Crowley sighed, “were, rather.” </p><p>At Aziraphale’s confused gaze, Lord Anthony gave a pretty grin, this one less genuine and more performative. A distraction.</p><p>“My father greatly limits the literature I’m permitted to consume,” he lamented, gesturing to the many shelves of chained books, “but I would travel the whole world and beyond with the lot of them, if I could.”</p><p>There was a terrible sadness about the way he said it. Aziraphale felt deeply sorrowful on his behalf. No one should be denied a book. An education. Literary exploration. An <em>escape.</em></p><p>“For some of the more disturbing and inappropriate material, I might understand, but I can hardly see the harm in a good adventure.” </p><p>Crowley rounded a statue near the center of the room, resting his hand against it to hang off of and nestling his chin over his fingers, smiling warmly at Aziraphale in a way that made the Alpha wish to melt into the ground. There was a far away fleck of excitement in Crowley’s mismatched eyes. A crackle of color. A light beckoning to be chased after. </p><p>That same tone of good humor gave his voice a sing-song edge, “He doesn’t want me filling my head with dangerous ideas.” </p><p>Aziraphale developed a sneaking suspicion that the Lord Omega Anthony Crowley might be hidden away from the whole world and new ideas would still have no chance of escaping his grasp. </p><p>“It’s my belief that literature can’t give you dangerous ideas, simply fresh ones.” </p><p>Something turned impossibly soft and sweet in Crowley’s eyes, his scent bursting forth like an herbal bouquet, the honey swirling round him, rendering his thoughts distant and dizzy</p><p>“I gather you’re something of a literary expert, Lord Aziraphale,” he said, softer than he had said anything else in this private moment between them. The roll of Aziraphale’s name off Crowley’s tongue was more appetizing than any amuse-bouche the Lord Alpha had ever tasted. </p><p>The energy between them grew soft without losing any of it's magnetism- a phenomenon Aziraphale could not explain. It was hypnotic. Intimate. </p><p>“One can scarcely be an expert on an ever-evolving subject,” he confessed, “Though I have consumed a vast amount of books and shall continue to do so for as long as I am blessed with sight.”</p><p>“Having searched through so many books, experienced so many stories, you have earned my greatest admiration,” the Omega confided. Aziraphale allowed himself to search those mismatched eyes, looking for some sense of flirting or teasing or witty rapport. Instead, he found only earnestness.</p><p>His greatest admiration? Aziraphale’s heart fluttered and his mind went weightless. Whatever had he done to deserve such a precious thing from a person who was so proudly selective as Lord Anthony Crowley? </p><p>“As a scholar?” he attempted to clarify.</p><p>“As an adventurer,” Crowley said with no shortage of meaning. </p><p>All at once, Aziraphale felt an overwhelming wave of affection. He felt a desire to take the slender figure in his arms, to sweep him away, to let him experience life and excitement and a world just as varied and adventurous outside of books as within them. Perhaps it was a deep Alpha instinct, longing to save an Omega in distress, but even in such a case, he was just as powerless to its effects.</p><p>Anthony leaned forward to smell his change in scent, and bit his lip at whatever he found, eyes hungrily flickering to Aziraphale’s own mouth. Aziraphale felt the deep, innate urge to lunge forth, to feel himself fueled by the passion crackling between them like electricity, waiting to be acted on.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were in here, M’lord,” a deep voice boomed from the doorway. A startled trill, not unlike a cat’s upon being woken from a nap, pulled forth from Crowley’s throat that made Aziraphale’s whole heart soften, opening like a blossom in the sunlight. Such a precious sound. He ripped his eyes away from the beautiful sight of Crowley’s angular, freckled face, turning to find the butler suspiciously eyeing him up and down. </p><p>The reality of the situation crashed back down on him, and he felt a mortification beyond embarrassment. Not only were they unacquainted, not only were they <em> unchaperoned </em>, but they were within a mere meter of one another, radiating forth flirtatious scents of attraction and interest and circling one another. It was a mating dance if there ever was one. He felt caught red-handed. Guilty.</p><p>What on <em> earth </em>had come over him? </p><p>“Oh, Parker, no need to run and tattle, I’m the offending party here. Poor Lord Aziraphale here dipped into the library for a breath of air. I followed after him and fear I quite twisted his arm into giving me some recommendations. Thank you, Lord Aziraphale, for allowing me to inconvenience you,” Lord Anthony insisted, his voice yet again hosting a Received Pronunciation accent, as harsh a difference as a slap in the face. </p><p>Aziraphale felt the lie. Not in the way he might intellectually know a lie was occurring based on previous knowledge, but in a much more physical way. There was an uncomfortable churning in his gut. An innate understanding he couldn’t explain. Before he knew what was happening, Crowley was sharply moving towards the door, his sauntering vanished and his perfect posture and stride back intact. </p><p>“Of course,” he said stupidly, feet rooted in place as he remained dumbfounded. It felt like awakening from a trance.</p><p>Crowley stopped with his red-satin gloved hand on the door way, turning back to face Aziraphale.</p><p>“Should you discover an interest in asking me to dance, Lord Fell, I should confess your invitation would be the first of the evening I’ve any true enthusiasm in accepting.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s cheeks burned at the shameless flirting. He’d never experienced an Omega so blatant about their interest. Perhaps it was a good thing. It would be the first instance in which he didn’t need to guess a courted Omega’s thoughts and emotions. </p><p><em> Courting? </em> He thought in abrupt terror, <em> Outrageous, dear chap! We’ve only just met, and not even properly! </em></p><p>Crowley vanished from the doorway, and Aziraphale turned to look at Parker. There wasn’t a trace of surprise present in his expression, though there was a great deal of protective mistrust, and Aziraphale had a good feeling that Lord Anthony had a reputation for stating his thoughts quite liberally.</p><p>When he decided a further absence might be noticed by his hostess, Aziraphale returned to activities, sharing a short discussion with Lord Hastur, who looked terribly lonely in the corner farthest from the action. A short discussion was all that was needed to discover he had a very valid reason for standing alone, in that he was a salty conversationalist uninterested in exchange. </p><p>He escaped quickly only to find Lady Hazel pulled back into his gravitational pull yet again. He was remiss to find that after such a titillating rapport with an Omega of great cleverness and charm, he was less tolerant of her stumbling, obsessive rambles over novels meant to appease and condition adolescent Omegas. </p><p>A fruitless attempt at concealing happiness from his scent was made when Crowley crept up by their side. </p><p>“I do hate to interrupt, Lady Hazel,” he said quietly, “I’ve been sent on a mission to tempt you back into my sister’s company. She insisted I use discretion.” </p><p>“A fatal mistake on her part, isn’t it, Crowley?” Lady Hazel teased quite familiarly, entirely charmed by her fellow Omega.</p><p>He gave her an appropriate grin, Aziraphale noted, not flashing any teeth, as only proper for an Omega’s smile. A show of teeth might indicate aggression. That standard had seemed to slip, he recalled with a warmth blooming in his chest, when they were alone together. </p><p>“You do know how I loathe to entertain the unnecessary.” </p><p>“Well, since you are here, it would only be appropriate to introduce you before abandoning you, no matter how good the company you would remain in,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes at Aziraphale. He chanced a glance at Crowley, and nearly regretted it, as the bright look of amusement, topped off with quirked eyebrows nearly had him bursting into laughter. </p><p>“I would be very happy for an introduction,” Crowley hummed back, his charms rendering Lady Hazel loose on her footing. </p><p>“That’s- I- of course!” she managed when she at last found her wits, turning to Aziraphale, “Lord Anthony, this is Lord Aziraphale Fell, Viscount Whitefeather.” </p><p>“I- Visco-?” Crowley started, clearly disarmed by the information. A flush rushed to his cheeks, coloring his tanned skin where the many freckles had failed. Aziraphale wondered, briefly, if Crowley had mistaken him for another position. It would certainly explain his previous lack of correct Southern address for an heir. If so, he couldn’t help but be glad for it. He couldn’t imagine wanting Lord Anthony to have treated him any other way upon catching him off guard. “That’s- of course. Well met, Lord Fell.”</p><p>He gave a curtsey, his fresh herbal scent tinged with a distressed burning that Aziraphale’s instincts made him desperate to soothe. The Alpha found, to his own surprise, he had rather preferred the sound of his given name out of that lovely mouth. </p><p>“And Lord Fell, as I’m sure you’ve discovered, this is Lord Anthony Crowley, the youngest child and only Omega of the Earl and Countess of Sutherland.” </p><p>“A true pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lord Anthony,” Aziraphale said, voice tinged with what he hoped to come across as humor. He bowed towards the youngest Crowley, rising to find the Omega precariously struggling to regain his persona of easy wit and charm past his clear discombobulation. </p><p>Lady Hazel’s relentless smile faded the least bit as she traced the space between the Lord and Lord Omega’s eyes, finally leaning in to sniff at the air near Aziraphale only to reach some semblance of understanding. </p><p>“Oh now that’s not fair. Do your temptations know no end, Crowley?” she chided playfully, swatting open her hand fan. </p><p>The bolster in confidence seemed to give Crowley a leg up on recovering. </p><p>“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, my good lady,” he hummed with a smirk. </p><p>“Hmm,” she hummed with a knowing grin, “I’ll pretend to believe you, sneaky serpent. I mustn’t keep Lord Beatrix waiting.” </p><p><em> Lord Beatrix, </em>Aziraphale thought, the odd tradition Northerners had of calling heirs by their given names unsettling his Southern sensibilities greatly yet again.</p><p>“My,” Crowley exclaimed, circling to Aziraphale’s left side and sporting a grin that sparked forth wickedness as he continued wistfully, “How unfortunate. I’ve found myself without a partner for the next dance.”</p><p>Again with the audacious, open flirting, bordering on bossy. He was quite loud. Quite demanding. Quite direct. Intelligent and opinionated with a mouth unafraid to show it. Not the least bit obedient or passive or subtle. No, he wasn’t a proper Omega at all, and the Alpha found himself hopelessly smitten. </p><p>Aziraphale grinned. Skill be damned. If his embarrassment was somehow the cost of this Omega’s interest, it was a worthy price, indeed. He opened his mouth to ask, and was interrupted as a tall Lady Alpha found her way before them in half a moment, bowing to Crowley. </p><p>“Excuse the intrusion, Lord Anthony,” she hummed, “but I would be very glad if you were to do me the honor of giving me the next dance?” </p><p>Crowley frowned, but excusing himself from a dance that he had only just lamented very loudly about being neglected for seemed to be a social faux pas even he wasn’t brave enough to commit. </p><p>“Of course, Lady Bethany. I should be glad to,” he lied, the same sensation pulling in Aziraphale’s gut, and when he gave her his hand, he threw a performatively forlorn gaze at Aziraphale that forced laughter to bubble in the Alpha’s chest. </p><p>He watched the Omega dance for a while. It seemed his return to the dance floor made him a highly prized partner, and Alphas soon lined up to request the subsequent dances.</p><p>He truly was a beautiful creature. Quite tall for an Omega (Aziraphale reminded himself to compare their heights when they were next together) and very slender, with limbs so long they must have been a nightmare to accustom to the elegant grace with which they moved now. Watching him dance was like watching a great work of art be painted. A wild thing. Lovely, too. Aziraphale realized quite quickly that no matter how wild he was, the loveliness would always ensure him a long line of suitors. </p><p>What was he doing? He lamented. Making a fool out of himself again. Here he knew for a fact there was a True Mate out there for him, waiting to be found, and yet he was wasting his time playing with idle fantasy of courtship with an Omega not lacking in pursuers the slightest bit. An Omega who would no doubt find him too gentle and too boring. What was he about to do? Duel with other Alphas over the right to court a person he <em> knew </em>was not his True Mate?</p><p>It was late, he discovered. He was beginning to get aggrieved looks for his rude neglect of not inviting a single Omega to a single dance. Perhaps he’d have a mind of asking Crowley, but he seemed rather occupied. Aziraphale felt tired at the idea of putting himself out there. Tired of falling in love with unique, cheeky Omegas that would no doubt break his heart every time. </p><p>Simply tired. He wanted to go to sleep. He shared his goodnights with Lord and Lady Sutherland, thanking them for a lovely evening. The Lady Sutherland excused him with eager understanding, reassuring that of course he was exhausted, arriving the same day and going straight to a party. She voiced a great desire to get to know him further before his departure that he promised to fulfill. </p><p>After getting lost far too many times and eventually recruiting the help of a maid he found in the corridor, he found his room again, and rang for his valet. After undressing from his numerous fine layers, he resigned himself to bed, settling in on the numerous imported pillows to read. He found with a bit of displeasure that his mind was fixed on one place, and it wasn’t the setting of his book. </p><p>It was a place of calm and peace and contentment unlike any other he’d ever known. It was a place he longed to return to. It was the place he had found himself when surrounded by the sweet scent of an herb garden, laden with honey. </p><p>It seemed whether he liked it or not, the part of fool was his to play again. </p><p>Perhaps he’d delay his departure and stay for the shoot, after all. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is my first Omegaverse fic AND my first period piece! Some things will obviously be changed to fit the Omegaverse. I genuinely hope you enjoyed it ;o; !!! I have the first three chapters written, each better than the last, but I'm going to parse them out a week or so. I have two other fics (one of which desperately needs some attention) so this will be a likely be a little sporadic after I catch up! </p><p>Yes the chapters will be long, but they will be fewer than my other works!</p><p>Feel free to check out my other fics, if you haven't come from them! One is a hospital fic with Doctor Az and Nurse Crowley, the other is a Harry Potter AU with Librarian Az and Herbology Professor Crowley! ^^ </p><p>Let me know what you think!!!! (Though please be kind, I am soft like Aziraphale ;o;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More terminology<br/>Presenting- the reveal of a child's secondary gender (Alpha/Beta/Omega) between ages 12-17<br/>Presented- when a noble Omega of age (typically 18-20) is presented to the royal monarch, after which they are officially eligible to for courtship.<br/>Omega-in-Waiting- pretty self-explanatory, the personal attendant to an Omega, caring after their needs and possessions and aiding them in getting dressed/dolling up</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the expensive, heavy drapes were pulled aside to allow the rays of the mid-morning sun to pour into his den, Crowley couldn’t think of a single more unwelcome manner to awaken to. He released a pitiful whine, flopping over in the safe haven of his nest and pulling a pillow over his head. His nose was buried into the many plush pillows and blankets, and he inhaled the cocktail aroma of his family pack’s scents mixed in with his own. </p><p>“Now, M’lord. Don’t be dramatic. The castle is filled with guests and your mother is taking her breakfast in bed after hosting a party of such a scale. It’s only right as the second Omega of the household that you should entertain in her place,” informed the Head Maid of Nead Nathair and Crowley’s interim attendant. She was a Beta, similar to every other indoors servant save for the butler (always an Alpha), Parker, and his mother’s Omega-in-waiting. He hadn’t had his own proper Omega-in-waiting for seven long years, and if his father was to be the final say in the matter, he wouldn’t again until he was married.</p><p>Another whine. </p><p>“I <em> know, </em>Dagon. Must you be so cruel as to remind me?”</p><p><em> To remind me I’m nearing thirty with every passing day, </em> he lamented in his mind, <em> That if I were wed and mated like Ama, I too might get to sleep in until late morning and take breakfast in bed?  </em></p><p>Anthony was well aware of his reputation as something of a firecracker. A feral Omega who snapped at any Alpha who looked too keen on gaining his favor. There were more crude rumors about him than that, borne from spite of those he had scorned, but no one had ever had the audacity to share them with him. </p><p>He found it a shamefully shabby evaluation of his behavior. In truth, he was a great romantic, who had a fanciful dream of meeting an Alpha who fell in love with his mind and allowed his wildness to run its course unimpeded. It wasn’t realistic, of course, any Alpha would resort to cold commands before letting their Omega mate embarrass them with such controversial behavior, but fantasies weren’t meant to be realistic. If they were, they’d be referred to as ‘goals’. </p><p>It didn’t help that when Anthony <em> was </em>inclined to fancy an Alpha, they seemed to find him unworthy of the trouble of pursuit or courtship. He could only remember a few courtships in his twenty eight years, none of them borne of love or passion, simply agreed to by him for a short time to appease his parents and give the impression that he was making some genuine effort at finding a proper mate. </p><p>Now he knew not to get his hopes up. It still happened, of course, and he still found himself every bit a fool for it. No measure of logic or reason could be used to explain his outrageous behavior with Lord Aziraphale Fell the night before. He cringed when he thought of the gauche manner in which he’d flirted and teased around the Alpha, laying himself out like a steak in front of a dog, fit to be ripped apart. It had been an innate, desperate, hormonal thing that gave him no shortage of mortified embarrassment to think about. It was his <em> scent. </em> His <em> blasted scent. </em>He’d come into the library, smelling of a musk with notes of black tea, fresh parchment, worn leather, and just a touch of honey. </p><p>It had turned his brain to feral mush, filling him with a passionate longing he’d never come close to experiencing outside heat. It reminded him so dearly of when he had been triggered into heat after visiting Anathema and smelling some unknown scent among a group of people, a phenomenon that could only herald his True Mate. After it had concluded, he’d attempted to journey through the guests to find the offending Alpha, and much to his dismay, found himself unable to find any sort of peculiar or pronounced connection.</p><p>The experience he’d had the night before was utterly reminiscent of the passion behind the incident. The moment he caught Lord Fell’s scent he would have given anything in the world to be grabbed and dominated and marked and mated, to be swept away in the throws of passion right on the library floor despite never having done so much as held hands with an Alpha and the fear that came with his inexperience. It was a deeply buried, carnal desire that left him dizzy with lust. He wasn’t sure, if pressed, he could repeat the course of their conversation. He only knew that he had embarrassed himself with a shameless forwardness, even insisting <em> two </em>times that the Alpha ask him to dance. </p><p>Naturally, he was aware that throwing oneself at another was the least tactful and least desirable form of seduction. It was of no great surprise that Lord Fell had opted not to ask him to dance, but Crowley couldn’t help but feel some contempt for him still. Not asking him to dance was one thing. Leaving a party because of some harmless flirting was entirely another. </p><p>Perhaps the source of his great disdain was that he was wholly unfamiliar with rejection. He was a finely bred, handsome Omega with a sharp wit and a clever charm. His strengths were not lost on him, and he had been so completely sure that the Alpha was quite taken by them. </p><p>When Dagon at last tore the pillow from his clutches, he heaved a sigh, peeling his weary bones and wounded pride from his meticulously crafted nest to select his morning outfit from his extensive wardrobe. Perhaps he’d go riding later. That always got his mind off troubling matters. </p><p>Dressed in his cutting edge fashion, he elected to be one of the first to breakfast. If he could eat quickly, perhaps he could avoid an embarrassing conversation with Lord Fell. He couldn’t stand to be forced to face his disinterest in the cold light of day. Lord Fell seemed a fellow keen on going to great lengths for the comfort of his counterparts, and the last thing Crowley could bear was <em> pity.  </em></p><p>No attempt to withhold a loud groan was made upon finding Hastur lurking through the hallways near the stairs. </p><p>“Up a bit early, aren’t we? Eager to escape your duties so quickly?” he drawled.</p><p>“Audacious of you to critique whatever manner I choose to tend to my duties, seeing as you’ve never once had any,” Crowley mercilessly mused.</p><p>Hastur snarled at him. Were they in company, it would be addressed as the abominable manners it was. Yet they were not, and this game was not a new one to be shared between them.</p><p>“Such a foul mood, little brother. What? All that attention last night and you’re still salty over a little scorn? Perhaps if you shut your mouth and quit spreading your legs for the servants, you’d find an Alpha and you wouldn’t have to suffer through this game of courtship you so desperately despise.”</p><p>The gust of air Crowley took in was instant, and he nearly blacked out from terror at his brothers declaration of their family’s greatest, most scandalous secrets and his own deepest shame where any guest could overhear. </p><p>“And perhaps if you found any purpose past tormenting those you’re jealous of, you might be something more than a complete waste of space,” a monotonous, cold voice sounded from the hallway.</p><p>Beatrix walked forth from the shadows, her cinnamon and cloves scent burning, angry and protective over her little brother. Her icy eyes were turned dark and dangerous, and she offered her arm pointedly to the youngest Crowley, who took it with no shortage of gratitude, still faint on his feet. </p><p>“He needs to know his place-,” the Beta began to ramble defensively.</p><p>“I rather think, Hastur,” the Alpha interrupted, wielding an energy so cold and dangerous it might have the power to kill, “that you are the one who ought to shut his mouth. Truly, the shame and scandal you will bring to this house is inevitable, but know that when you <em> do </em>slip up- all because you do not know your place- you will lose whatever place you do have left the moment I become Earl of Sutherland.” </p><p>With a broody disposition, their brother appeared to have been thoroughly reprimanded enough that he ducked his head and slunk down the stairs. Beatrix turned to Crowley, who was still frozen in mortification. </p><p>“Relax, little pup. Your reputation is safe.” </p><p>“You can’t promise it should remain so,” he murmured in a weak voice.</p><p>She grinned, nudging him playfully as they began their descent.</p><p>“Perhaps not. But I can promise, should your slips in purity and propriety be exposed, that I can give them something to <em> really </em> talk about. After all, we both know <em> you </em> are hardly the insatiable dog of the family.”</p><p>A look or well-pleased triumph crossed her face as she managed to pull a timid laugh from Crowley. </p><p>“You would drag your reputation through the mud to rescue mine?” </p><p>She grinned and shrugged, allowing her gaze to shift over the banister.</p><p>“I’m very fond of my favorite brother, I struggle to think of a sacrifice I would not make for him,” she confessed easily. Her genuineness melted his heart, and he gave a smile with a bit more truth behind it. “Even if he <em> does </em>hurdle air-headed Omegas at me for the sake of cornering an Alpha he fancies.”</p><p>Crowley barked out a laugh, giving her a toothy grin he wouldn’t dare flash in company.</p><p>“You didn’t like her even a little? Strange, I do recall the two of you disappearing in tandem. Insatiable dog indeed.”</p><p>She returned the smirk in spades, flashing her sharp, dangerous canines. </p><p>“Well you don’t need to <em> like </em>a person in order to share some good fun,” she hummed noncommittally before quirking a thin black brow at him, “and did your trickery win you your prized attention?” </p><p>Crowley felt irritation as he smelled his own scent grow bitter, keeping his expression as discreet as possible. </p><p>“I’m afraid I mistook courtesy for interest, a dreadful mistake if there ever was one.” </p><p>Beatrix fixed him with a dubious look so intense it made him squirm.</p><p>“I somehow doubt there was any mistake.” </p><p>“Your doubt cannot change the truth of the matter. There was not the slightest attempt at pursuit.” </p><p>They snorted, pausing beside him outside the dining room.</p><p>“My dear Anthony. I can’t say defeat is among any one of the winning characteristics that set you so distantly apart from others in the chase. You’re a modern Omega with many fine attributes. If he is not currently of a mind to pursue, you are perfectly capable of inciting him to chase.” </p><p>Crowley preened at the high praise, but with stubbornness set deeply into his bones, he shrugged his shoulders. </p><p>“Why should I? Don’t I deserve an Alpha that wants me?” </p><p>Beatrix sported a knowing grin, “all Alphas want you, as you well know, and you deserve better than the lot of them. I should say you deserve an Alpha capable of spiraling you into a tizzy at the smallest slight. In the eleven years since you were presented at court, I have never once seen you so affected by the idleness of a potential suitor.” </p><p>With that, they left him alone in the hallway to fume.</p><p>Crowley’s cheeks burned at the raw exposure of the simple statement. Oh, it served to rile him straight back into a fuming state. Perhaps he <em> was </em>a spoiled thing, put off by a single Alpha’s dismissal. How could his pride possibly remain intact when said Alpha had been given the exceedingly rare gift of Crowley’s consideration and turned his nose up to it? </p><p>Who did he think he was, anyway, this great Lord Aziraphale Fell, Viscount Whitefeather, to travel all away to the Highlands, unengaged, accept the hospitality of Lady Sutherland’s invitation, and not offer a dance to a <em> single </em>Omega at her party?</p><p>That was a Southern brand of elitism if he had ever seen it in his life. Too high and mighty to embarrass himself by entertaining any quaint charms offered by Northern nobility. Too grand and dignified to accept a friendship from an Omega as controversial in company as Crowley had proven himself. </p><p>No. Perhaps Anthony should count himself lucky to escape the Alpha’s interest. He set himself on this thought religiously, even as the simple thought of Lord Fell’s scent worked his heart into quite a frenzy. </p><p>He managed his way through breakfast well enough, introducing entertaining topics to company whenever conversation dulled and keeping the peace with a practiced grace whenever it grew too heated. Crowley never seemed to get into trouble in the mornings. Perhaps people were less controversial. Then again, perhaps it was simply too early in the day for him to be properly exhausted of them. He tried not to take too much pleasure in chiding his sister and father for talking business at breakfast. His father served him with a look of irritation that was far too fond to be effective. </p><p>“It <em> is </em>your rule, Apa,” Crowley pointed out with a subtle smirk that just barely passed for acceptable.</p><p>“That it is, little pup,” his father ceded, snapping his newspaper back upright to shield his face before musing, “how very like your mother to remind me.” </p><p>So it was a ‘little pup’ kind of day. Crowley was pleased to hear it. His relationship with his father had no shortage of strain after a scandalous betrayal of their bond some years ago, but at the end of each conflict born of Crowley’s smart mouth the fact remained that he <em> was </em>his father’s only Omega child and his youngest. Thus it was natural he was awarded some special sort of sentimentality, though he would be hard pressed to find it when Lucius was cross. It was nice when he was reminded of it, it gave him some hope of absolving himself of his transgressions and winning back the pride and affection his father had once held for him. The family Alpha liked to pretend he loathed Crowley’s defiance, but Anthony knew better. It brought the Lord Sutherland great pleasure to know a fierce fight was so well bred into his children that it burst forth in a spring of wealth even from his young Omega.</p><p>Crowley grinned at the wall of paper his father had put up between them before them before a neighboring unmated Omega, Mr. Finnegan Harper, asked after his garden. He was thoroughly pleased with the topic, and eagerly jumped into it until the entrance of a certain Lord Alpha greatly distracted him. </p><p>For as scorned and offended as Anthony was hellbent on remaining, every one of his tightly wound stings snapped loose upon the inhale of fresh black tea, crisp parchment, and worn leather. He kept his chin low, lodging a discrete glimpse at Lord Fell and quite feeling as if he was kicked in the chest when his eyes landed on their target.</p><p>The breath gushed from his lungs and time slowed as he took in the Alpha on full display amidst the bright morning light. Crowley was quick to determine that the dull glow of electricity the night before had cheated him <em> sorely </em>of Lord Fell’s full charms. He was likely the same height, but broad, with an indubitable lurking strength beneath a softly padded exterior. </p><p><em> Warm, </em>Crowley thought quite stupidly, though certainty, he must be, and naturally, that would appeal to the Omega who suffered at great length in the cold climate. Though surely he could be warmed by those lovely blue-grey eyes alone. They were framed by tiny lines that betrayed a lifetime of genuine smiles. </p><p><em> Kind, </em>voiced the next intrusive thought, and he must be, mustn’t he? For as true as it was that he had rejected Crowley’s requests for a stronger acquaintanceship, he had entertained him so tenderly. Shared such sweet, comforting sentiments. Anthony noted that Lord Fell seemed to favor unassuming, muted colors of white and tan, though the tartan of his ascot boasted tiny accents of blue. No doubt the execution of the goal was widely off the mark, as his soft curls were of a white blonde that glowed in the morning light like a halo, the brightness of which faltered only in comparison to that of a smile that drew the eyes of the entire room. </p><p><em> Angel, </em>Anthony settled on at last, and that was that on the matter, wasn’t it? </p><p>“Crowley?”</p><p>He blinked back to focus at Finnegan’s address, deeply disturbed when it earned the attention of Lord Fell, as well, who no doubt caught him mooning. His focus snapped sharply back to his fellow Omega. </p><p>“Oh I am sorry, Finnegan. You were asking after my herb garden.”</p><p>“Yes! I’ve heard the tea blends you craft from it are the best in the whole of Britain. I was curious if we should be lucky enough to experience it for ourselves?” </p><p>“What a wonderful idea. I do think I can arrange that. I’d be happy to have something fixed for tea time. In fact, now is a perfect time of morning to do my gardening. I do hope you’ll excuse me,” Crowley announced, eager to make his breakaway before suffering a forced conversation in which he was sure his mouth would run. It <em> certainly </em>wouldn’t do to mention their rendezvous in the library. His father did not trust him alone with a single non-family member of any secondary gender, he’d be hard pressed to take such news well. </p><p>The Alphas stood as he departed, and he called on a maid to fetch him his sunhat. He was eager to go outside and take the small hike through the woods to the tier of clearing that held the herb and flower gardens, avoiding the main path. It was a cool, damp morning, and the singing of birds helped him clear his head. With no shortage of relief, he found his mother already deep among her flowers, discussing matters with their groundskeeper, the old Alpha Shadwell. She was dressed in a lovely white blouse and a high-waisted blue skirt, her lovely gardening hat fixed meticulously atop her pinned red curls. It appeared she decided to go without patches, seeing as she was spending time outdoors.</p><p>“Oh, good morning, Anthony!” she cheerfully greeted him, leaning in to exchange greeting scents. He relaxed slightly, letting her scent of roses and rainwater wash over him. </p><p>“Good morning, Ama, Mr. Shadwell.” </p><p>“Canny, M’lord! You cannae come round lookin’ bonnie as all that, you’ll discourage the poor flowers!” </p><p>Crowley grinned despite himself, “Mr. Shadwell! Bestow flattery like that on the orchids and perhaps they’ll relent to growing at long last.” </p><p>“I know I’ve taught you better than that, my wee Lord. They’ll get praise when their hard work is done and they’re pure dead brilliant.” the groundskeeper huffed disapprovingly in his gruff voice. </p><p>“Of course, Mr. Shadwell,” Anthony laughed, “I should never encourage false confidence in the plants. You have my word.” </p><p>With that score settled, he tended to the herbs while his mother worked on the flower beds. Quite a bit of time was passed harvesting and weeding while wielding a large wicker basket, a pair of gardening sheers, and an aggression greater than strictly necessary. He felt his mother’s speculative gaze carefully flickering over to him on occasion. </p><p>“You had a great deal of dances last evening,” she mused loud enough for her voice to carry to him without shouting.</p><p>He hummed in idle acknowledgement. After a time, he heard her tut, and she came to help him bundling off the lavender.</p><p>“I do hope a dance partner hasn’t offended you?” </p><p>“Not a dance partner, no,” he huffed moodily. </p><p>“Ah,” she acknowledged, offering a sympathetic smile, “I had also hoped Lord Fell might ask your hand for a set.” </p><p>Heat rushed to his face upon realizing she had him quite figured out.</p><p>“Well he didn’t, despite my dreadfully embarrassing <em> declaration </em>that I had hoped for him to. So I confess I take great offense and acknowledge that I only have myself to blame.” </p><p>“Such assumptions, little pup,” Lady Sutherland chided gently, “and none at all fair. Lord Fell may not have asked you to dance, but he didn’t dance at all the entire evening. I’m sure he had good reason. Perhaps he was tired from such a long journey on the very same day.”</p><p>Crowley pouted, “How convenient, then, that he have an excuse that did not cast him in the light of an Alpha finding no single adequate partner in the whole of such a respectable affair. He might seem a bit grand for himself, were that the case.” </p><p>“And yet, I’m certain it is not. Really, Anthony. I know you have your pride, but you’re not cruel. I do hope I shouldn’t find you spreading any rumors so beastly about kind Lord Fell.” </p><p>With that clarified, she excused herself back towards the castle. Crowley’s sour expression didn’t let up. How on earth was Lord Fell the victim in all this?</p><p>“Come noo, m’lord. Is nae such a dreich day as all that. Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye. Any Alpha teh snub the Lord Omega is daft as a besom.” </p><p>Anthony couldn’t help but cede the tiniest smile, huffing a laugh. Just like old Shadwell, cheering him up. Giving him perspective and guidance. He had done as much since Crowley was a wee pup, running to hide and brood in the garden. The Omega dearly hoped he might continue to do so for many years to come. He was right, after all. Destiny was written. Crowley had a True Mate out in the world, maybe looking for him, too. Silly to mope over such a trivial slight. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * * </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Lord Anthony,” called out a voice that Crowley might have broken into a sprint upon hearing were he not in its owner's clear sights, “Good afternoon!”</p><p>He turned, tight-lipped and stock-straight as he regarded Lord Fell. </p><p>“Good afternoon, Lord Fell,” he acknowledged curtly, turning sharp on his heel. </p><p>He marched forward, dressed in his fine black riding breeches, accented with a long, tiered half-skirt that fell from the small of his back where his tight fitted waistcoat ended. A fine white blouse was beneath the whole affair, a serpent-engraved brooch trimmed with black ribbon placed at the tidy arrangement of white lace at his neck. His leather riding gloves were tight in hand, and the manner of his walk quite suggested he considered the exchange completed. Perhaps that would be most appropriate, given their lack of chaperone, and Lord Fell did seem to find something unflattering about Crowley’s inclination towards impropriety. </p><p>But Lord Fell would not be shaken so easily, and kept valiant pace with Crowley’s rushed walk. </p><p>“Do you ride, Lord Fell?” he asked. While pleased that he was a worthy target of pursuit, it seemed right to feign annoyance after the way he’d been treated the night before.</p><p>“I do,” he was answered, “but on much more mild hills and flat beaches. I admit I’m likely not an advanced enough rider to brave such wooded, mountainous terrain. I’m impressed with your skill to be able to do so.”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t help but preen a little despite the tone he was committed to convey. Typically, riding was seen as an exceedingly un-Omega-like thing to do. It wasn’t entirely out of the question, of course, but as with everything, Crowley got a thrill out of riding the edge of any boundaries of what was <em> acceptable </em>from an Omega. He went far too fast. Did far too dangerous stunts. And he did it all in a side saddle. The first punishment of any transgression in the household was his restriction from the stables. Still, it was undeniable that riding aided him in purging a hot-headed, frustrated disposition, and thus his parents had allowed him to carry on with his hobby without setting limitations. </p><p>“Then I wonder at the appropriateness of our walking alone together, seeing as you do not appear to have business in the stables,” he said as if he had a care in the world for propriety.</p><p>“I had hoped I might apologize for my behavior last night,” Aziraphale clearly announced, undeterred by Crowley’s brusque manner.</p><p>It took great focus for Crowley not to allow his feelings of scorn swirl forth at the mention. He did slow his walk, however, smiling every so politely at the Viscount. For a moment, he spared a prayer of gratitude that they were not in close enough quarters to be completely hypnotized by the Alpha’s enticing scent yet again.</p><p>“While I confess to being something of a prideful creature, I should hope you don’t find me ungenerous enough to resent you for a genuine disinterest in a further acquaintance.” </p><p>“But you see, Lord Anthony, I am <em> not </em>disinterested. Much the opposite. This is the source of my remorse; I’ve not conducted myself in a manner becoming of my intentions.” </p><p>Crowley quirked a brow, trying to keep his gaze away from the handsome Alpha in hopes he might not be distracted from his decision to assess his intentions from a safe, detached distance. </p><p>“I should consider accepting your apology, Lord Fell, if you might give me proper reason why you did not act on claimed interest. Elsewise I might suspect I have been burdened as the subject of pity.” </p><p>The air with which Crowley conducted himself was impossibly proper, to the point of which it proved a direct contrast to the nature of their conversation in the library the night before. Much to the Omega’s satisfaction, this fact did not seem lost on the Alpha. Much to his delight, it seemed to <em> irritate </em>him. Oh, so Anthony had not been wrong. The Lord Fell was very much intrigued and soft for his nonconformist personality, to the point he was unnerved by the distant propriety.</p><p>“Naturally, I could never leave you to believe something as terribly far from the truth. I did want to expand on our acquaintance but feared asking you to dance.” </p><p>“You did not wish to dance with me?”</p><p>“No- No I <em> did </em>wish to dance with you. I simply feared it.” </p><p>“What a ridiculous suggestion!” Crowley exclaimed in a scornful tone, “Why should you fear a dance with me? Does my manner offend your Southern sensibilities so terribly? Should having me as a partner be so embarrassing?”</p><p>“That’s not it at all! It is <em> I </em>who would-,” he cut off, a delightful pink hue that Crowley was unfairly charmed by dusting his wide cheeks. </p><p>“It is you who would-?” Crowley repeated. </p><p>“Who would be the subject of embarrassment,” Lord Fell murmured under his breath. Anthony stopped at last just as they stopped in front of the stables. The Alpha cleared his throat, his scent growing a bit muddled and shy in a manner so endearing Crowley had to battle the sudden and vicious desire to gather him in his arms, squeeze him, and rub his cheeks against Lord Fell’s scent gland until he smelled properly marked by him. “I’m a wretched dancer.” </p><p>The Omega only barely withheld a sharp laugh and a teasing grin. He knew he was toying with the Viscount now, but his sister’s words rang in his ears. He was tasked with giving Lord Fell cause to chase, and Crowley was anything but a defeatist. He would not cease until his mission was thoroughly completed. </p><p>“You wanted to dance with me, but feared your poor dancing would be subject to judgement?” </p><p>“Precisely,” the angelic man sighed, seeming greatly relieved at the understanding. </p><p>“Hmm. How unfortunate. I had hoped we could be friends,” Crowley lamented. </p><p>Lord Fell startled back, fixing Anthony with an incredulous look as his horse was brought forth by a stable hand. A great black clydesdale named Bentley, Crowley’s favorite and truest companion. He stroked his old friend’s side, circling around her to ensure the saddle was properly tightened. </p><p>“Why shouldn’t we be, may I ask?” the blonde tutted disapprovingly. Oh, Crowley noted in delight, there was a bit of bastard underneath all that angelicness. </p><p>“It is true that our acquaintance has been short, Lord Fell, but I should think you could safely assume that I have few true friends. I don’t mind it, you see, I find the greatest bonds through my selectivity, and I could hardly imagine a friendship with a person who might allow the passive judgement of the elite to stop him from pursuing decent and honorable desires for which there is no need for shame.”  </p><p>Aziraphale gaped as Crowley mounted his horse and settled in atop it. He found himself, at last, unable to hide his grin. A flash of disbelief blinked through the Alpha’s gaze as he spotted it, then offense, then a chuffed amusement. He scoffed a laugh, setting his jaw and shaking his head at Anthony. He was met with a smug, delighted expression from the Omega. </p><p>“You misunderstand me again, Lord Crowley. I fear you haven’t a grasp for my nature in the slightest.” </p><p>With a look that could only belong to an Alpha who had spotted a challenge, Lord Fell turned to the stable hand. </p><p>“My dear boy, I do believe I fancy a ride, after all. Would you be so kind as to fetch a steed for me?” </p><p>Crowley looked down at his hands and adjusted his reins in an amature attempt at hiding an incredibly smitten grin. Typically, if a person, especially an Alpha, discovered he was toying with them, he would suffer a barrage of outraged injustice and naturally be expelled from their company. Never before had a recipient decided to feed him crow. Not to mention from what he had gathered- this angel- <em>Alpha- </em>was a bit fussy, but was so determined in proving himself worthy that he was forgoing so much as changing into proper riding wear. Crowley found himself wildly pleased at being found worth the effort, his inner Omega properly preening. He waited as Aziraphale mounted a white Friesian stallion. </p><p>“You’ve found confidence in your riding abilities?” Crowley mused. </p><p>“Absolutely not,” the Alpha huffed as he got properly comfortable on the saddle. He lodged a look straight into the Omega’s eyes. “This will be the most repugnant riding you will see in your life. After you.” </p><p>A hearty cackle bubbled forth from Crowley before he could stop it. He threw his head back and let it ring, and in the moments before kicking Bentley into action, he could swear he felt a heat warmer than sunshine in summer when he glimpsed the fond smile fixed on Lord Fell’s face. </p><p>Crowley, having finally found his manners, managed to hold back enough that Lord Fell could keep up while making it look like he was putting forth great effort. The Alpha’s promise was only slightly exaggerated, as he clearly had very little experience navigating rough terrain but was by no means hopeless. He’d nearly fallen once, but, with a clear determination to make Crowley eat his words, he pulled through to the end, which Crowley may or may not have rushed them towards in a surge of mercy only halfway through his favorite riding route. Lord Fell had quite proven his point, after all, and rightly earned his victory. </p><p>Lord Fell was quite out of breath when they reached the stables again, though he was not alone in this. Crowley felt the effects of exercise as well, a gathering of sweat beneath his collar and between his shoulders. As he dismounted, Crowley saw on him sport a thin sheen of sweat. His scent became a mouth-watering musk through the invigorated effort, and the sight of him, bright eyed and flushed and thoroughly worked, with his white locks stuck to his forehead, would surely burn itself into Crowley’s mind for endless lonely nights to come. He wasn’t sure a more erotic image was possible-</p><p>Until those sharp, predatory grey-blue eyes fixed on him, and a defiant, smug smirk planted itself on his face, proprietary long forgotten; Crowley only barely kept from swooning off his horse. With a knowing, smug energy, he was approached. Lord Fell reached up, grasping his waist as Anthony gripped his shoulders in turn. He was carefully lowered to the ground, and found, with a deeply debilitating delight, that strong yet gentle, broad hands lingered on his waist a moment long as he found his footing.</p><p>“I do believe I’ve cleared my name of your accusations, Lord Anthony.” </p><p>“I do believe you have, Lord Fell,” the Omega sighed, flashing a sharp-toothed, crooked grin that, in polite company, would be deemed far too provocative to fix at an Alpha. He found, with an intoxicating delight, that he didn’t care, and with this new friendship found between them, he didn’t have to. </p><p>“It would seem that I am quite ignorant of your nature after all,” Crowley confessed with a grin, “a fact I look forward to rectifying.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * * </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>While Crowley was more than eager to begin his exploration of Lord Aziraphale Fell’s character, he found himself slowed down something terrible by the expectations of society, a frustrating commonality in his life. So much of the time, the secondary genders were separated. For the most part, they saw one another during meals in which they were seated quite far, or during crowded gatherings in the drawing room. It wasn’t much, truly, but it was a start. On one such evening, they became engaged in a game of chess in which they proved so evenly matched, quite the spectatorship gathered around. Even under the scrutiny, there managed to be some quiet banter and flirtatious grins. </p><p>The next afternoon, Crowley and his Mother took a small group on a tour of the castle. Somewhere along the journey, Lord Anthony and Lord Fell fell back from the party, remaining in Lady Sutherland’s line of sight but finding themselves so distant it likened a private encounter. Crowley shared ridiculous and wild tales of his puphood that happened here or there, and Lord Fell laughed along, asking questions that brought the joy of childish youth spiraling back to Crowley. The Alpha looked on with a fondness that ran deep within those stormy blue eyes. </p><p>Then came the day of the shoot, Lord Fell’s last day among them to Crowley’s great disappointment. At the very least, the shoot might give them another chance at private conversation. </p><p>Anthony finished changing into his fitted deep red riding jacket, with matching wide-legged palazzo trousers instead of a skirt and one of his favorite black riding hats. As always, he was the only Omega joining the shooters, but he couldn’t be bothered about it, considering it wasn’t the company of other Omegas that he was seeking. In truth, he found driven game shooting to be quite distasteful. Unnatural. Offensive in its ease. He held a more approving opinion towards deer stalking, at least that had a bit more artistry, but one of their more esteemed Alpha guests had asked after a shoot. Thus, Lord Sutherland had arranged it with his gamekeeper. </p><p>Anthony was fixed with several surprised looks as he joined the party that he paid as little mind as he could without rendering their owners vanished from reality. Sugar, a white spackled highland pony, was brought before him secured with a side saddle, indicating she was to be his steed. He gave her a pat and frowned, navigating himself to the stable manager. </p><p>“Mr. Hayes, is something the matter with Bentley?” </p><p>“No, M’lord! She’s in fine fighting fashion. I just thought you might want to try Sugar today after what happened last time she was around… ehm… gunfire.”</p><p>Last time. To be fair, she <em> had </em>kicked an obnoxious Lord Alpha in the chest, but Crowley rather liked to think she could sense his disdain for the man and did him a favor. </p><p>“Well, I can’t very well train her out of it if she doesn’t come.” </p><p>“Of course, M’lord,” Hayes agreed with a bowed head, a disapproval clear on his features that Crowley couldn’t help but grin at in defiance. </p><p>The familiar scent of black tea, parchment, and leather drove him around a cluster of horses and Alphas, and then he saw Lord Fell, dressed all in tan and blue with a brown top hat that appeared a bit antiquated. For the ensemble’s lapse in keeping with current trends, it suited its wearer in a remarkably handsome fashion. Blue eyes with their hint of cloudy grey widened when they fell on Crowley, then squinted into a smile. </p><p>“Lord Anthony. How silly of me not to assume you’d be joining us.” </p><p>“Yes, well. The Omegas have decided on a needlework circle this morning, and I confess the prospect of watching guns fire repeatedly into the air happens to have tempted me as a less mind wasting activity,” he teased with a mock lament, though it was difficult not to let a small grin slip onto his face. </p><p>He was awarded with the sunny smile he was hoping for. </p><p>“What high praise. I suppose the Alphas should feel honored to be deemed such wonderful entertainment,” he bantered back without a moment’s hesitation. </p><p>Crowley smiled, so amused and charmed he flashed his teeth. </p><p>“Anthony,” his father’s foreboding voice rang out. The Omega turned fast on his feet. Luckily, Lord Sutherland did not look perturbed, simply carrying a slight bit of wariness tinged by protection. It was fair enough. He was not yet very well acquainted with Lord Fell, and would naturally be fearful that his youngest pack Omega baring his teeth at him might be grounds for an aggressive response. “It appears your mare is ready for you. You will keep her under control today, I hope?” </p><p>“Of course, Apa. I’ve no idea what could possibly make you suspect I wouldn’t.” Crowley mused with a faux innocence that his father looked at with an equally performative suspicion, drawing a fond, playful smirk from his son. When he looked away at last, Anthony winked his gold sparked dark brown eye at Lord Fell and made his way back to Bentley, who looked a bit miffed. Crowley couldn’t blame her. He didn’t like to be neglected from the action, either. </p><p>The ride to the shooting grounds was on a much kinder trail than the one Crowley had dragged Lord Fell on some days prior. It was true that the Alpha seemed to be a perfectly fine rider on the smoother terrain. When they arrived, the horses were taken by stable staff and the Alphas spread out along the green with their reloaders close by. Crowley noted the direction his family pack Alphas went. Both Beatrix and his father were remarkable marksmen. He felt a bit of pride when watching their precision. </p><p>Before he joined them, he took a moment to have a discussion with Bentley before handing her over. He neared her, taking her bridle with one hand and gently washing his other over her jaw. </p><p>“Now, old girl, I do hope you won’t embarrass me this morning. It’s very important that today’s shoot shouldn’t be interrupted. Should I change my mind and I require the services of your brute force, I will be sure to let you know. Is that understood?” </p><p>As if on cue, she shook her head and snorted. </p><p>“Awh, and there’s my pride and joy,” he cooed, reaching to scratch an ear. </p><p>“Are you talking to that horse?” </p><p>Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to find Lord Fell watching him with rapt amusement, his man standing several meters behind him. </p><p>“Well, how else is she to know what she’s to do?” he exclaimed with a scoff, as if it was obvious. </p><p>The Alpha smiled warmly, “Of course. How silly of me.” </p><p>He widely walked around the horse, not wishing to spook her. A wise choice, Crowley thought, seeing as Bentley had bucked every single Alpha who had ever tried to ride her, and wasn’t keen on being handled by them either. </p><p>“Such a remarkable steed. Rather imposing, isn’t she?” </p><p>Crowley preened on behalf of his horse. </p><p>“Her name is Bentley. Eighteen hands, if you can believe it.” </p><p>The Viscount’s brows raised in surprise, “Gracious. How did you end up with such a beast?” </p><p>“My father purchased her years ago, she was bred for Clydesdale racing, but was too wild for it. She was exactly what he wanted, massive and dark and intimidating. She was very stubborn and refused to train, only getting more defiant when he threatened to sell her for glue, as if she understood and would not be persuaded. Well, one day she got away from the stable workers and found her way into the gardens. I’d just gotten back from a trip to the South and knew nothing about her. I simply hopped on and rode her back to the stables.” </p><p>“Just like that?” Lord fell exclaimed, wildly amused, now.</p><p>“Just like that,” Crowley mused with a smug grin, “Only took a few months to have her trained properly. You should have seen my father’s reaction. One of the most humorous experiences of my life.” </p><p>Lord Fell laughed. With a fond smile, Anthony patted Bentley’s snout, handing her off to the one of the staff at last. </p><p>“Oughtn’t you find a spot?” </p><p>“Well,” the Alpha started, looking around the clearing, “I can make arguments for several spots. I was hoping I might ask for your expertise.” </p><p>Anthony preened, pleased to be seen as having worthy intellectual contribution.</p><p>“Of course, Lord Fell,” he chirped in delight, leading the way with the Alpha keeping stride beside him, “I’d say over here is best. They always bank left, every time, and there’s a bit of a breeze this way. They come into view quickly and drift forward for a time, it’s best to meet them a bit further back than logic suggests.”</p><p>Lord Fell looked quite impressed, “I’m surprised the Lord Omega doesn’t shoot, himself.” </p><p>Crowley gave a coy grin as they settled into place, circling around the Alpha as he was handed his gun. He might say that it wasn’t proper for Omegas to shoot, but he rather thought that would earn him a dubious look. </p><p>“Yes well,” he sighed, instead, “As eagerly as I try to escape falling into the expectations of my secondary gender, I admit I can’t quite feel comfortable in the employment of violence.”</p><p>“Hmm. Funny you should say,” Lord Fell sighed, turning his eyes to the sky in anticipation. Oh, he did have a very handsome profile, with that perfect pointed nose. The backlight of the morning sun illuminated each of his features, and he glowed like an angel in a stained glass window, cloudy blue eyes impossibly bright and beautiful. </p><p>“Oh? Why is that?” Crowley asked, sounding as if the breath had been knocked out of him and feeling quite as if it had. </p><p>“Because as eagerly as I try to fulfil the expectations of mine, I feel much the same.”</p><p>A horn sounded in the distance, and moments later, several pheasants began to soar overhead. Lord Fell raised his gun, a frown on his face, and in two shots, one fell from the sky. </p><p>Crowley gaped at him. </p><p>An all consuming feeling took root in his chest, expanding out until his lungs felt constricted and his heart on fire. It appealed deeply to some innate Omega foundation, witnessing an Alpha with a clear and <em> significant </em>aptitude for protection and the compassion to wish he should not have to bring harm by employing it. It spoke to a nature of kind-heartedness, mercy, and self-possession that was deeply attractive to Crowley. </p><p>Lord Fell handed off his gun to be reloaded, and Crowley realized he was nearly salivating, drawing far closer to the Alpha and searching out his scent in a way that was highly inappropriate outside a courtship or deep familiarity. He realized as much, when he heard quacking overhead, and took a few steps back. He winced as a couple gunners shot at the ducks. </p><p>“Oh no,” he lamented quietly, heart wrenching. </p><p>“Is something the matter, Lord Anthony?” Lord Fell tutted so kindly, genuine concern written across his features.</p><p>“The ducks,” Lord Anthony sighed, “They’re wild, they weren’t meant to be part of the shoot. They must have fled in the wrong direction.” </p><p>He received a blank, slightly curious glance from his company. </p><p>“I like ducks,” he mumbled in confession. </p><p>Lord Fell’s face transitioned into one of great amusement and fondness, as if Anthony was the most delightfully curious creature he’d ever come across. </p><p>“You like ducks,” he repeated. </p><p>“Does the Viscount not like ducks?” </p><p>“Hmm. I wouldn’t say that. I like the taste of duck.” </p><p>Crowley gasped, trying to look very offended and even more scandalized and falling into a dubious grin instead. </p><p>“How rude, Lord Fell!” </p><p>“And who is the recipient of my offense?” The Alpha hummed, turning his gaze dismissively back at the sky, earning a guffaw from Crowley at the nerve of his snobbery. </p><p>“The ducks, of course!” </p><p>It was Lord Fell’s turn to laugh. </p><p>“And how would they know of my transgressions?” </p><p>“Well! Ducks <em> have </em>ears-,” he paused, thinking about his statement, “Do ducks have ears? Must do. That’s how they hear other ducks.” </p><p>Lord Fell made a very valiant effort of ignoring Crowley’s nonsense in favor of keeping his focus on the sky, though Anthony did not miss the fond smile he was attempting to stifle. The interruption dwindled away after that. Lord Fell proved himself not only to be an impeccable aim, but a generous, mindful shooter. He made a point of only shooting three creatures for each drive, and never directed his focus at another shooter’s mark. His abilities were only secondary to Crowley’s own family pack Alphas, and, admittedly, Hastur as well. The three all had excellent aim, and were far less reserved in their shooting. </p><p>Crowley made it perhaps a few drives before he grew bored of spectatorship and was very much inclined to be a nuisance to Lord Fell, instead. How could it be helped, when he would be rewarded with that knowing bastard grin and an unending patience that made his heart glow?</p><p>He leaned in.</p><p>“Do you know,” he volunteered, taking on the role of an unrelenting court gossip, “I heard a rumor that the Lord Omega Anthony <em> did </em>shoot, some time ago.” </p><p>A smirk betrayed itself on Lord Fell’s profile as he continued to survey the sky. </p><p>“Is that so?” he asked, playing along with the silly song and dance of a bit, “Whyever did he stop?” </p><p>Crowley felt overcome with an aching wave of fondness, allowing a massive grin to cross his face. How very sweet he found this Alpha, to entertain an Omega’s silly whims born of boredom. </p><p>“Well it’s quite a scandalous story.” </p><p>“You don’t say,” Lord Fell gasped, fulfilling his role quite well, “I can’t begin to imagine. Was anyone of great renown involved in this scandal?” </p><p>“The Lord Sutherland’s younger Alpha brother, in fact, and it might have been expected, I should think, with the Lord Omega having seen only twelve years. Hardly older than a pup. Perhaps old enough for his secondary gender to be identified, but can you believe, despite being under the care of a governess, that his Apa let him skive off his lessons and join the Alphas in the shoot?"</p><p>“A twelve year old pup run amok from their teacher? The perfect set up for the best tales of scandal.” </p><p>“Indeed. Though this story surely ranks highest among them,” he flaunted.</p><p>“You tease me, dear boy, dangling such a story before me without sharing.” </p><p>The Alpha’s imitation of a high-society gossip monger was such satirical perfection, down to the posture, expressions, and inflection, that Crowley suspected with a remarkable humor that Lord Fell found the societal practice just as silly as he did. </p><p>“Oh I should hate to tease, good sir,” he tutted, continuing to play his part, “It’s said the Crowley’s went on a family waterfowling venture. The youngest Crowley had been shooting before, and while stubbornly persistent that he should be included, reacted with quite the dramatics whenever a duck was shot, making it quite impossible for anyone else to enjoy the activity.”</p><p>Aziraphale was looking at him out of the corner of his eye with a secret smile, clearly interested in the tale.</p><p>“In a great show of frustration, the Lord Sutherland’s brother shot a duck sitting unwittingly on the water. The young Lord saw this as terribly unsportsmanlike, and in a defiant tantrum, shot his uncle in the behind as he was bending over.” </p><p>A barking laugh of surprise erupted from Lord Fell’s chest, and he gaped openly at Crowley, much to the Omega’s delight. </p><p>“That is <em> not true!” </em>he gasped in a cheeky disbelief, his character dropped and forgotten. </p><p>“Oh? Is it not?” Crowley hummed innocently with a small shrug of his shoulders and a wildly pleased, toothy grin. He turned to the servant attending to Lord Fell’s gun. “What do you think, James? Is it true?” </p><p>“Cannae be sure, M’lord,” the Beta played along, “Who’s to believe court gossip in this day and age?” </p><p>He grinned as the Lords laughed at the continuation of the bit and handed Lord Fell his gun as the horn went off again. A bird swooped overhead from an unexpected direction. Like a flash, Lord Fell’s gun lined up, and followed it across the clearing until it flew over the trees across. </p><p>“You might have gotten that one,” Crowley remarked. </p><p>“I would have, if I’d taken the shot.” </p><p>“Then why not shoot?”</p><p>“It was a duck,” he said, as if it was obvious. </p><p>“And?” </p><p>“And so I couldn’t possibly,” Lord Fell expressed, pulling his stormy blue eyes to gaze at Crowley at last. There was some sort of honesty in them, something that tugged at Crowley’s heart strings. “I have it on good authority that the Lord Omega <em> likes </em>ducks.” </p><p>If Anthony could melt on the spot, he might. His brain certainly attempted. His heart was dripping and warm and <em> full </em>. A response was warranted, and yet he found he could not produce one. All wit or cleverness or cheek drifted away from him, and he was left, without words, utterly enamored. </p><p>“Oh,” he breathed at last, his knees suddenly much weaker than they’d ever been before.</p><p>Lord Fell shot down the next pheasant to pass overhead, and handed off his shotgun for reloading yet again. </p><p>“I do hope, Lord Anthony, that upon my departure from Nead Nathair, I could say I’d left having formed a new friendship,” he turned those powerful eyes on Crowley again, and a euphoric wind of excitement and fondness rushed through the Omega, lighting his fingertips alight with a tingling energy. </p><p>A grin slowly blossomed across his face. A myriad of impulses flashed through him like fireworks. The impulse to tease his silly Southern pronunciation of Scottish Gaelic. The impulse to sidle up close and rub his cheek against his scent gland. The impulse to throw himself into his arms and cuddle him in a surge of affection and pepper him with playful bites. The impulse to hopelessly trail after him all the way back to Sussex like a lovesick pup. </p><p>He stifled them all in favor of a reply.</p><p>“I daresay you could declare as much quite truthfully,” he hummed, feeling quite as if he could walk on air, “and I should happily say the same.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>They got it bad ;P </p><p>Halfway through writing chapter 4, so you can likely count on Friday updates for the next two weeks before things potentially slow down. </p><p>I hope you guys enjoy this! Comments give me life and I love seeing what you think~ &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> 16th August 1902 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Lord Fell,  </em>
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  <em> It is my sincerest hope that this letter finds you at Whitefeather in a finer humor than it has left me at Nead Nathair. The guests have all gone, and it feels as if we are the only family left in all of Scotland. There’s something quite eerie to be found about it. It is reminiscent of some odd, unsettling fiction, perhaps as if the fog might consume the castle and vanish it from this plane of reality, or perhaps it will lift only for us to find there never were any other occupants of the Highlands to begin with and that we’ve been lost to the elements in a bout of mass hysteria. Perhaps these endless rains will overflow Loch Ness and bring the very monster herself lurking around our castle walls. At the very least, then there might be some excitement.  </em>
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  <em> You are a man of great intellect, Lord Fell, and so I should assume that if you have read my ramblings thus far, you have become aware that I am bored. I'm so very, very bored. Transcendentally bored. So bored I’ve drawn a picture of the boring view from my window to send you alongside this letter, taking care not to add any artistic flourish that might give his Lordship room to doubt the extent of boredom that I am plagued with. So bored I fear we should not meet again, as I cannot imagine surviving a moment more of the boringness. So bored I’ve been driven to seek amusement by plaguing Southern Viscounts with boring letters in which they bear witness to my spiraling madness.  </em>
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  <em> Given your kind disposition, I’m sure you are most welcome to it. No doubt all my Highland brethren have fled South to harass you, and I see no good reason, as your new Northern friend, that I should be exempt from the popular activity, even if my journey is made with words alone. I do not pretend to enjoy being any but the first participant of any trend. Of course, I am a Lord Omega, and even with your great tolerance of my inclination towards impropriety, I could not imagine occupying your attention without at the very least making an attempt to entertain. Thus I suppose I shall regale you with all the exciting going-ons you might imagine to be offered from a scarcely occupied castle so far hidden in the country it hardly constitutes an estate of any notability at all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ama has insisted I teach my brother Hastur to play the piano in hopes that we might find a way to enjoy each other’s company, or at the very least deem it tolerable. After twenty eight years of disparagement between us, I find it curious that she should find the prospect of intervening most pressing now, but I am nothing if not a loyal, loving son, so naturally I have made an effort I should indulge myself by claiming to be very valiant indeed.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It would appear, even when both parties are highly devoted to the cause, it is an enormous impossibility to find a capacity for any enjoyment in any company when it is accompanied by the sound of a perfectly adequate instrument that has been thrown from a cliff side, smashing against the rocky ledges on its way down and and sounding great, clambering cries of despair as it faces its demise. It is my opinion that even an attempt at mastering the bagpipes would prove less detrimental to the permanent hearing of the castle’s occupants and much kinder to the general morale among us. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then again, I shan’t tempt Fate. Knowing my capacity for persuasion, she’ll listen.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Perhaps I exaggerated in my earlier description of a countryside barren of any company at all. I’m sure this surprises you, as you couldn’t possibly have suspected me a Lord Omega capable of exaggeration. We did receive a guest, and so you might feel included on the events I am to share with you, I shall give you a brief summary of our level of acquaintance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Our surprise visitor was one Mrs. Pettigrew, the Omega wife of a highly esteemed architect. For her husband’s modern mind, she is of a considerably more traditional nature. She makes as much known by using sly turns of phrase likening my fashion-forward wardrobe to that of an Omega-for-hire. Naturally, I am too dim-witted to understand her discreet meaning, but I imagine if I was ever blessed with intelligence to grasp after it, I might ask how she might be so knowledgeable concerning the attire of such a demographic. She also calls me ‘Devil-Eye’. Evidently, my hearing is equally as dim as my mind (as is to be expected from the suffering I sustained after witnessing a piano’s butchering), but all is well. Even if I were to hear such attempts at name-calling, I would likely remain unaffected at a term that is so vastly lacking in imagination, I feel- or would feel, rather, in this hypothetical- a deep pity for the person who thought the term inventive to begin with.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thus, with my dim wit and poor hearing taken into account, I should find her a perfectly pleasant woman. Of course, I was overjoyed when she imposed herself upon Ama and I during tea time. As you know, I am the very image of politeness, and took tea quietly as the married Omegas discussed riveting topics of household management and, with no great subtlety, the importance of blind obedience in those who had not yet been wed. It came of great surprise when Mrs. Pettigrew nearly flipped the table in the middle of one of Ama’s opinions, jumping about the parlor and performing a jig I can’t say was of any great form (though I must deliver high marks for its entertainment). A snake had found its way under her skirt, and I was blamed for the whole ordeal.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea why. I had been sitting quite happily with my tea for the entirety of the visit and I have no reason to take joy in Mrs. Pettigrew’s dismay.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Although, I find I’ve been blamed for a great deal for which I’ve nothing to do with, lately. Things of such nature as my brother being stitched into the seat he took in the drawing room one afternoon, the gluing of coins to the walk around the carriage house, and the purposeful creation of a tea blend that might make my uncle sneeze through an entire day when everyone else who drank the blend was quite fine.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then there was the dusk said uncle went waterfowling with Beatrix and Apa. Just as they arrived, before their guns could even be brought forth, a series of sharp cracks sounded out, scaring the ducks away. My uncle, for some unknown reason, felt a great need to protect his backside. I wonder whatever from.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The distraction was discovered to be the doing of a pup pack playing in the woods nearby. Authorities suggest the pups got the firecrackers from a passing redheaded Omega who was immediately assumed to me, but I’m sure I don’t have the faintest insight on the entire affair. I was also reported to have been seen giving the same pups sweets later on in the day, but for this I confess to be the guilty party. The pup pack often plays on my favorite riding trail. They are very silly wee creatures with no shortage of imagination or charm and are kind enough to employ me for their games whenever they spot me. Why should I need an ulterior motive to gift them biscuits?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They are, I admit, of a remarkably adorable nature, and I confess myself to be quite soft for pups.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In any case, I do hope the culprit is found soon, that my name might be cleared. Perhaps my doppelganger has found me- how exciting might that be? Or perhaps some shape-shifting cryptid has found enjoyment from using my face for mischief.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We may never know the answer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now that I’ve thoroughly exhausted us both with my tales, I believe I’ll endeavor to take a nap and ask my attending servant to wake me in September. I hope I might awaken to a letter from you, although I warn you I shall be very cross if you should not send me a bit of that pretty Southern summer along with your response.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours sincerely, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crowley (I am confident that you may guess which one) </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“And what has you so greatly amused this morning, Aziraphale?” </p><p>Aziraphale looked up at his mother, the only other occupant of the breakfast table, seeing as his father was taking his breakfast in bed. </p><p>“Oh- oh, it’s nothing. No matter, mother.” </p><p>“No matter?” she mused with a knowing smile, “You’ve been smiling at those pages nonstop since you opened the envelope.” </p><p>He pursed his lips in a guarded defiance, only surviving to pique her interest further, the smell of a crackling fireplace and cocoa growing fresher. With a little huff, he admitted, “It’s a letter from a friend I made on my tour of universities this summer.” </p><p>“And what friend might this be?” Lady Sussex asked, sipping at her tea. </p><p>“The Lord Omega Anthony Crowley,” he mumbled as he unfolded the last page, finding a remarkable depiction of the Highland hillsides, speckled with the castle’s outbuildings. The detail was impeccable, boasting the fine, detail-oriented skill of a respectable artist. Despite Crowley’s vow that he had not taken any creative liberties, the trees were crooked in such a way, and the flower fields larger than Aziraphale had seen them upon visiting. It seemed the Lord Omega had a difficult time reigning in his imagination. Aziraphale had a feeling he would cherish the drawing dearly for quite some time. </p><p>He found himself so enamored with the piece of parchment that he remained oblivious of his mother’s borderline predatory excitement. </p><p>“You don’t say?” she asked, attempting and failing to hide the ecstatic edge of her voice, “And you had complained about being sent so far into the country. I can’t help but notice you omitted this information when I asked after Lilith- that is, the Lady Omega Sutherland. Are you so stubborn, darling, that you can’t admit you attended a party and enjoyed it?”</p><p>With her final statement, she succeeded in grasping his attention. Aziraphale sounded an incredulous gasp, looking at his mother and feeling a great sense of betrayal. </p><p>“So you <em> did </em>know of the party!” </p><p>“Of course I knew of the party. Your Ama took great pains in planning your travel schedule so you might be able to attend. It would seem his hard work came to fruition. You ought to thank him when he comes down,” she laughed, as if it was obvious, “Now tell me of the Lord Omega. Does he liken his mother?” </p><p>“I can’t say he does, with the exception of his red hair, which instead of wearing long is cropped short in a convenient style as chosen by many Lord Alphas. He’s very tall, very slender, and very freckled, with mismatched eyes.” </p><p>“Oh, how unfortunate. I had hoped for your sake he might be of great beauty.” </p><p>“He is!” Aziraphale exclaimed, reacting to his shock and offense at the doubt of Crowley’s handsomeness so quickly he had forgotten to mask his passion on the subject or stifle the protective growl that rumbled in his chest. His mother raised both eyebrows at him, looking greatly amused and very well pleased. He attempted to subvert attention from the heat he felt rush with his face with an indignant huff, returning to poking at his fluffy eggs with the prongs of his fork. After a lifetime of practice, he managed to quiet the growling. </p><p>“Lord Anthony is quite the nonconformist. While I suppose the features I listed may not be considered the societal ideal, they match his personality quite perfectly. They set him apart, and in his divergence he finds not the slightest bit of shame or insecurity. He wields his confidence with an impeccable grace. I would argue it qualifies him of a creature of great beauty, indeed.”</p><p>“My, Aziraphale,” his mother cooed with no shortage of pleased teasing, “You sound quite taken.” </p><p>“A fact I’m sure you will delight over with Ama,” he mused with his eyebrows raised, taking his letter and his newspaper and attempting to excuse himself to the library. Naturally, he had every intention of writing Lord Anthony- or should he call him Crowley?- a timely response. </p><p>He passed the housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, and asked her to send some tea up for him, which she agreed to as cheerily as ever. A sigh of relief puffed past his lips as he entered the vast, two-storied library, overflowing floor to ceiling with more books than could strictly fit on the shelves. He gave a quiet greeting to the librarian, gathered parchment and ink, and sat in his favorite chair near the window. Luckily, he’d gathered an excess of paper, as he found himself fussing something terrible when tasked with finding his rhythm. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 21st August, 1902 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My Dear Lord Anthony, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I do hope my letter comes before you meet an untimely demise in the face of boredom. It seems a wretched way to go, and if I am at all able to rescue you from such a fate, I find it my duty as a gentleman and an Alpha to do so.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Although I must say, I, too, find you to be an intelligent, kind man, and as such, you should hardly feel pressured to entertain me. I take satisfaction in being trusted with any of your thoughts, whether or not they are pleasant or amusing. Though I admit I was thoroughly amused, indeed, by your tales. I hadn’t been aware that you took enjoyment from playing the piano, and I should hope to hear you perform when we are blessed to meet again, should your hearing still be intact following the trauma it’s suffered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I was most interested to learn of your doppelganger. In most literature surrounding the topic, the mimic seeks to take the life of the original for their own. How fortunate it must be that in your instance, it seeks to avenge you from injustices and act on your benefit. A powerful ally indeed. Perhaps he does delight in impropriety that would be most unbecoming of a Lord Omega such as yourself, but I find myself unable to disapprove of his mischief at your behest, especially upon insult of features that are quite lovely, indeed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It is unfortunate to hear of the poor weather in Sutherland. I should think your fellow countrymen should be more eager to come south in the Winter, when the bleakness is less likely to let up. I do hope Bentley doesn’t feel neglected in these stretches of poor weather where it should be unsafe to ride? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Does your herb garden flourish in the excess rain? If I recall, it was mentioned that you are quite fond of gardening, and make your own tea blends. I’m a great lover of tea, as there is no possible better substance to accompany the enjoyment of books, and I should like to try yours, should the opportunity present itself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The weather in Sussex is a temperamental thing and will not allow itself to be predicted. It is just as likely to be warm and sunny one day as it is to be cold, damp, and miserable the next. This suits me perfectly fine, in my bookish ways. Not to say I neglect the duty of Alphas to maintain a certain level of fitness, it is simply that my physical pursuits are often those that may be practiced indoors; a fact I’m sure my abysmal riding never might have led you onto. I do confess that then the weather is kind, I am quite amenable to a swim on the beach- don’t tell my fellow Alphas of academia, they could feel verily betrayed by my acquaintance with the sun. I’m certain despite your proximity to the seas to the north, it’s too cold for you to enjoy the same activities.  </em>
</p><p><em>I should clarify before you go hurdling yourself off the cliffs- that is</em> <span class="u"><em>not</em></span><em> a challenge.</em></p><p>
  <em> Unfortunately, even in the light of your boredom, I have even less to report from Sussex if it is to be believed. Mother has been bestowing greater responsibility on me, meaning much of my time outside of books has been devoted to running the estate, listening to long speeches from lawyers and accountants, and touring the nearby farms. Little of the adventure you suggested I am so familiar with, and nothing, I’m sure, you would be interested in hearing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There’s books, of course. There’s always books. I could rave over their contents for eons. Of course, you are far too good a conversationalist for me to ever dare to talk at you without your engagement. So, I must risk your irritation by asking you- what genres do you enjoy outside of adventure? Have you any favorite authors? Any books you’ve been wondering about? Given that our encounter in the library was evidently born of a desire for book recommendations, it would only be right to supply you with titles, should your butler take interest in following up. It’s nothing to do with the fact that I’m eager to hear what your refreshingly imaginative mind makes of my favorite titles, why you think so- or might, rather, think so- I’ve no idea.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before I close out this letter, you’ve requested sunshine, and I should never purposefully disappoint a lovely Omega by refusing the fulfilment of such an earnest request. I cannot say I am a skilled artist, as you so evidently are, but it’s rumored I have a fascination with words. Thus, allow me to describe the sunrise for you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was cold, last evening. Remarkably so for an August night. My mind was filled with an aching ruckus, reminding me of the duties left to tend to, the time wasting away, the numbered years of my time on this earth ticking away one by one. The breeze picked up the seaspray, washing over us on the inland as if we were rocking amidst the waves, creeping in my window and taking me into a hypnotic sway. The sailors do not lie; the sea is a temptress. I could not sleep, for in every attempt, I imagined a lapping of cool water at my feet, prickling at the hair of my legs in a manner so immersive it disoriented me from the distinction of reality. It was a pull to the shore. A call to the ocean- one I felt powerless but to answer to.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I trekked down to the seaside only just before sunrise. A warm hue of blue washed over the horizon, chasing in the infinite stars from view. I stood there, the tide swooping in to greet me, the temperature rising only just, wrapping around me like the most comforting of memories. It is the rocky beach I played at as a pup. The waves I learned to sail over. A stretch of unfathomable depth and distance, that all at once reduced my worries and stresses to nothingness. That’s what they are, in the grand scheme of things, aren’t they? We are but specks on the map of the earth. Invisible in the magnitude of the universe.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I watched with a newfound peace as the sun crept above the curve of the earth leagues away. Most mornings, it comes in a spectrum of pinks and blues, greys and purples. This morning, it was golden, kissing the sky with a honeyed color that I confess reminded me of the hue that fills one warm pool of your eyes and flecks across the other. It was warm. Familiar.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was gone in an instant, and though I was only acquainted with this dawn but for a moment, I turned from the shore and came back to my home, feeling changed. Feeling perhaps as if God had given me a glimpse of His intentions in a way I could not fathom to understand quite yet. Feeling hopeful.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The whole ordeal seems the best sentiment I could possibly offer you. I do hope it brightens your spirits.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m going north this next week (of course, not so north as Scotland), so I fear I will not be here to receive a letter should you reply. It would, however, be a most wonderful surprise to return to a correspondence from my dear new friend.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Take care should you decide to ride in the rain, and do keep an eye out for that doppelganger- who knows if he’s to be trusted? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours very sincerely, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lord Aziraphale Fell<br/></em>
  <em>Viscount Whitefeather </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale stared down at the page, brows raised, mildly surprised at the words he scratched out upon them. When writing, he had a tendency to allow the words to carry him, rather than pulling them along after his logical thoughts. It had not been his intention to write something of a confession, and yet he had. It wasn’t as if Crowley didn’t seem a creature that might preen at the attention, and it certainly wouldn’t be out of order to request the initiation of a courtship after their interactions thus far. In fact, it would be quite proper, as it was a mark of bad manners to lead on an Omega whom one was not considering as a mate. While Aziraphale wished to learn more about Crowley’s nature before writing to Lord Sutherland to request a courtship with his youngest, he couldn’t see the harm in sharing some sweet, honest words. </p><p>Aziraphale nearly folded the pages, ready to secure them with blue wax and his family seal. Before doing so, he paused, closing his eyes and aching after the sweet scent of honey and herbs. He wondered if Crowley enjoyed his scent too. Perhaps he must, by the way he had circled him in the library, the way he’d inched closer to him on the shoot, leaning in to inhale his scent as his beautiful miss-matched eyes grew wide and hazy. </p><p>As if to finalize his signature, Aziraphale brought his thumb to the scent gland a couple inches below his jaw, gathering the smallest bit of the oil that hosted his natural musk and smearing it, just a small thing, beside his name. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“This city makes no goddamn sense. I doubt I’ll even be able to make it back to my hotel.”</p><p>“Don’t be dramatic, Cousin Gabriel. It’s nothing as bad as all that, and you’ve only to gather your things before we journey back to Whitefeather,” Aziraphale tutted as they exited an old building that housed the Fell family lawyer. It had been a long, dull meeting in which Aziraphale discussed the family stocks and investments in new agricultural technologies for their farmers and Gabriel established the groundwork for expanding his business to the UK. </p><p>“You’re kidding right? It’s Hell on earth! How am I supposed to find the tailor? At least New York is on a grid system! And I swear, I can’t understand anything any of the commoners are saying. It’s jibberish,” Gabriel huffed in his painfully American accent. </p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes, quite familiar with his relative’s scathing reviews on anything British- or rather, anything un-American. Gabriel Himmel was Aziraphale’s cousin, the son of his father’s twin sister. Despite his criticism, he was just as easy to amuse as he was to displease, and he had spent much of his puphood and adolescence at Whitefeather, wrestling, fencing, debating, and splashing around at the beach with Aziraphale (with loud declarations, of course, that America’s sandy beaches were far superior).</p><p>It was the Lord’s opinion that Gabriel’s real issue with England- or the whole of Britain, rather- was within the treatment and rights of Betas such as himself. In America, they could inherit, could head up a family of rich repute, and were just as valued as the other dynamics, often seen as the ideal negotiator, middle-man, and peacekeeper. Aziraphale couldn’t fault him for resenting the fact that he came to a country where Betas were acknowledged as futile as anything but laborers. Of course, if it wasn’t for his scent, so mild it was drowned out by every other in a fashion particular to Betas, one might mistake him for an Alpha- tall and muscular and intimidating in appearance.</p><p>“You might have sent your business partner if you find it so terribly dreadful,” Aziraphale pointed out. </p><p>Gabriel’s smile tightened a bit, “Michael and Sandalphon sent me for a reason. I’m far better equipped to forge ahead in English society and persuade rich, sucker noble Alphas to invest.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed, “If you care for the opinion of one among them, I might suggest you take care not to address them in such a manner?” </p><p>“Of course, of course. Twenty-five maids and fifteen footmen, whose employment isn’t the slightest bit related to money. Naturally,” he jested with a sly grin. </p><p>“Naturally.” </p><p>Aziraphale grinned back, adjusting his top hat. He opened his mouth to forge forward in the conversation when a whiff of autumn leaves and apples struck him like a bucking horse’s hoof to the stomach. His feet stumbled to a stop in the center of the street, and he found himself overcome with the same horrid, debilitating devastation he had come to know when the very owner of that scent confessed they had forsaken their engagement and had spent their heat with another whom they would be mating with instead. Stormy blue eyes frantically searched the now suffocating swarm of moving bodies all around him. He turned in circles, seeking in an instinctive desperacy, until at last, he caught a glimpse of guilty forest green eyes. Raphael turned away the moment they shared a glance, ducking his head and quickening his pace with his Omega-in-Waiting close at his heels. </p><p>“Aziraphale?” </p><p>Lord Fell jumped from his thoughts, looking to his cousin, who was gazing down at him with a furrowed brow and concern laced in his eyes. </p><p>“You smell awful.”</p><p>“Jolly kind of you,” Aziraphale huffed, broodily.</p><p>Gabriel rolled his eyes. </p><p>“I believe you know my meaning. Let’s get out of the road, eh?” </p><p>The realization that he was standing in the middle of the street still, disrupting oncoming carriages, struck Aziraphale very quickly, and he followed Gabriel to the walk, briskly guiding his way to the tailor. Gabriel had, with no shortage of vexation, stooped to employing the services of a tailor that was not his own after his travel jacket was ripped on the journey over. Aziraphale was well aware he would likely take his time looking over the work, and excused himself to remain outside. He sat on a bench in front of the entrance way to St. James Park, making an impressively dedicated attempt to reel in his thoughts that very much likened clumsy, panicked fingers respooling thread only to knot it terribly. </p><p>Aziraphale leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees and praying no one of any remarkable stature saw him doing as much. His focus grew hazy, directed at his tan spats and the brick walkway beneath them. The grief was suffocating, leaving his mind dizzy and wanting. </p><p><em> Honestly, old chap. You’re in public, </em>the rational portion of his consciousness urged, but it was nothing, nothing to the memories of the last time he’d seen those green eyes, they had been in a passionate goodbye, made only more intoxicating with the beautiful idea that he’d have them for the rest of his life. He poured everything into them. His future, his love, his dreams, and their owner took it all to the arms of another Alpha and left him empty. Alone. So terribly alone. </p><p>His chest was heaving now, his heart aching painfully, lungs tight and restricted, and his body quaking with emotion. No noise nor sensation was perceived in his suffering state. It was all so terribly suffocating.  Then he smelled it- herbs and honey. So sweet. The best drug he could ever hope for. More soothing to his nerves than any cup of tea could ever task itself to match.</p><p>With every deep, hungry inhale, he was rewarded more and more of the aroma, until it was sure it wouldn’t go away. One by one, his senses returned. He heard the bustle of the city, the clopping hooves of horses, a group laughing a bit astray, a newborn pup crying nearby. A soothing pressure was washing over his shoulder in circles. When he opened his eyes, he found a pair of black heeled Omega boots beside his own feet, and trailed up the long, slender legs clothed by dark green pinstripe palazzo trousers and the slim fit matching waistcoat over an extravagant high-necked white blouse to find a beautiful freckled face and stunning mismatched eyes beneath the wide brim of an artfully crafted green and black hat. </p><p>Anthony Crowley was beside him, lending his scent, bringing him back to a place of tolerable comfort. </p><p>“Lord Anthony,” he breathed, the edges of embarrassment only just beginning their creeping approach.</p><p>“Crowley,” Crowley corrected with a crooked, playful grin before taking his hand from Aziraphale’s shoulder. It never ought to have been there, really. It was terribly inappropriate for an Omega to initiate touch with an eligible Alpha outside of engagement, marriage, or mateship. Still, Aziraphale felt the hissing pain of his freshly exposed wound edge back in as the Omega withdrew from his side, but he didn’t go far. No, the Omega simply stood, adjusting his gloves as he turned to throw that disarming smile at the Alpha again. “C’mon then.” </p><p>The Scottish edge of his accent was back, a phenomenon Aziraphale assumed would be constant outside of other polite company. </p><p>“And might I ask where you intend on taking me?” he asked with a raised brow. His mood was a terrible one for company. Though he was well aware he owed the man some kindness for soothing his pain, the scowl remained fixed on his features. </p><p>Crowley remained undeterred, flashing his surprisingly long canines. So remarkably cheeky with his impropriety, this Omega.</p><p>“I hardly think I’m capable of kidnapping you, Lord Fell, but I find that a turn about the greenery helps me clear my head,” his expression softened into something a bit more earnest and gentle, “Perhaps it might be beneficial in chasing away whatever thoughts plague you so.”</p><p>Aziraphale frowned further, looking around Crowley and feeling, despite himself, the slightest bit protective as he realized he was alone. A fine Lord Omega, wandering the streets of London <em> alone </em>. How entirely dangerous. </p><p>“I feel I must inquire as to the whereabouts of your chaperone?” </p><p>Crowley gave a dramatic sigh, as if Aziraphale’s hesitation was greatly putting him out. </p><p>“I am here with my sister. She’s come to London to do business on behalf of Apa. I tagged along,” he huffed.</p><p>“Don’t you have an Omega-in-Waiting that ought to be with you?” </p><p>“I’m-,” Crowley stuttered a beat, pupils pivoting about in a manner that looked alarmingly akin to the beginnings of panic before he finished, “My mother insists a personal attendant is a privilege for only mated Omegas.”</p><p>There was a lie about it. How Aziraphale knew, he could not say. Nevertheless, he did know, and found it remarkably off-putting. Perhaps his old wounds were smarting too terribly to differentiate the magnitude of Crowley’s lies from Raphael’s, but however innocent, Aziraphale did not feel he had done anything to this Omega to deserve deception. It was his turn to give a haughty huff, sitting up straight and turning his gaze from Crowley to the bustling street. </p><p>“A long journey to come along for.”</p><p>“Yes, well,” Crowley mumbled, sounding discouraged by the lack of Aziraphale’s attention, “I like trains.” </p><p>With brows raised in intrigue, Aziraphale allowed his gaze to trail back to mismatched eyes, which filled with a glimmer of relief at the contact. </p><p>“You like trains?” he repeated dubiously.</p><p>Crowley blushed. It was a very handsome thing, the flushing pink flourishing beneath his magnitude of freckles. The manner in which he bit his cheek and shyly averted his eyes. </p><p>“I like the journey. You know. The- the going somewhere. Looking out a window. Pretending I’m going somewhere grand… maybe some fantastic adventure… ” </p><p>Aziraphale’s disposition softened considerably, and all at once, he recalled how very fond he was of the man before him and why. A free spirit, strong in its imagination and unafraid of exploration in any and all directions. His own scent freshened, gradually diminishing in its charred edge. </p><p>“And how do you find the destination?” </p><p>The return to familiar ground, paved by banter seemed to pull Crowley’s brazenness forth again, and he smiled. Aziraphale felt slightly guilty when he took care not to show his teeth again.</p><p>“Well enough, I suppose. I should like it much better should I be permitted to attend the nightclubs, but I can’t complain about the fashion to be found here. Closer to Paris than Edinburgh, anyhow.” </p><p>“Quite,” Aziraphale mused. That was one manner in which he found Crowley much like other Omegas, although he seemed to wear new and daring fashions in a fresher way, radiating an air of ease and elegance that others might strive to attain.</p><p>Crowley grinned, “Indeed, I should think such a short trip from Sussex should give you no excuse for lagging a half-century behind in fashion.” </p><p>Aziraphale laughed, giving a half-hearted attempt at appearing affronted that fell quite flat. </p><p>“I am quite comfortable in my fashion, however old it might be. Though I hate to have offended the Lord Omega’s tastes.”</p><p>Crowley sounded a gleeful trill, and Aziraphale, in a single moment, doubted he’d ever heard anything more precious.</p><p>“Never fear, Lord Fell, my tastes are unoffended. I find that while your manner is rather antiquated, your mind is as modern as mine- and you mustn't mistake my marveling, as I find myself quite fond of your chosen fashion.” </p><p>Aziraphale raised his brows, finding it curious an Omega as stylish and contemporary as Crowley to confess to such a thing. He wondered, for a moment, if he was unique to Crowley in this regard. </p><p>“I confess I am very glad to hear it,” he sighed with an affectionate smile that seemed to please Lord Anthony in troves, if his gleeful preening was to be taken into consideration, “Where might the Lord Beatrix be now? Is she aware you’re wandering about on your own?”</p><p>“Well, I’m not on my own, now am I?” Crowley teased with a pretty grin, “And <em> she </em> abandoned <em> me </em>, not the other way around! She got terribly impatient awaiting the completion of my shopping venture and went off to the tailor hoping to find something of interest.”</p><p>A devilish glint glimmered in those mismatched eyes, the honey colored pool glimmering brighter than the rich brown one. Crowley popped open his parasol, a lovely black silk thing embroidered with delicate greenery, and spun it over his shoulder as he backed away.</p><p>“That said, if you are uninterested in a turn about the park, good sir, I find such defiance unagreeable, and aim to do so with or without company. However, if anything were to happen to me, I hope you rest well knowing the blame rests squarely on your shoulders,” he finished with a sing-song voice and a grin that was, perhaps, on loan from the devil as he sauntered backwards through the park gates before spinning on his toe. </p><p>“Hey now!” Aziraphale laughed, rushing to meet him at his side. Crowley was doing a very good job hiding the well-pleased smirk that danced upon his lips as he twirled the parasol in playful, lazy motions over his shoulder. No doubt he knew that with an Omega’s rush away, it gave an Alpha little choice but to chase. “You are very gifted in the ways of persuasion, Lor- Crowley. Have you been told?”</p><p>“Oh, I couldn’t say. Once or twice perhaps,” Crowley sighed wistfully, though the wicked gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise. </p><p>“Has your trip south given you great reprieve from your plague of boredom?”</p><p>Crowley sounded a quiet laugh. Such a pretty thing, Aziraphale pondered, not unlike the rest of him. </p><p>“Indeed. How kind of you to ask. While I do not make a habit of occupying myself with gossip, it would seem the Omegas of London have been eagerly awaiting my arrival if only to douse me with it upon sight.” </p><p>“And this is of great interest to you?” Aziraphale asked with surprise, somewhat doubtful in the news until Crowley turned to flash a blindingly charming grin that disarmed him in great measure.</p><p>“Not in the least, but I should say nothing makes me reevaluate the appeal of home quite like it,” he mused, mismatched eyes surveying the park. He turned back with a chuffed grin as Aziraphale laughed. </p><p>“I should-”</p><p>“‘Scuse me! How’s a flower for the pretty Omega?” a peddler interrupted them, extending a fistful of red flowers of which Aziraphale could not identify. </p><p>He couldn’t help but frown, warily eyeing the peddler- a tall, rakish man of surprising handsomeness, with dark skin and hair and deep, hypnotizing black eyes. He might have known that escorting Crowley without a chaperone might have had it’s consequences. There were two possible follies that could come from this interaction. The first was that the peddler mistook them for a courting pair to soon be mated and intended for him to buy Crowley a flower. In this instance, Aziraphale could not escape rudeness. He could buy it, but giving a gift, even of such menial value, would be a terrible faux-pas without extending an offer of courtship with it. </p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t sure he wanted to court Crowley. Of course, he was perfectly charming. Wild and clever and so clearly eager to please, but Aziraphale wasn’t certain if he could be a good mate, in turn, remaining so deeply in the turmoil of heartbreak over another Omega. Crowley was deserving of a loyal Alpha that would love him singularly. Then, of course, if he <em> didn’t </em>buy the flowers, that could be seen as rude in equal measure. </p><p>Before he could decide, Crowley seemed to step in with the offer to purchase them himself.</p><p>“Geraniums! My, they’re very pretty. It could be very lovely, indeed,” Crowley flirted, making a stark return to his Received Pronunciation, “If only I knew what it was you were after in return, good sir.” </p><p>He was flirting. <em> Flirting. </em> With a <em> peddler.  </em></p><p>“Oh, how could I dream of chargin’ such a beauty? ‘Tis but a token of my appreciation for you gracin’ we commonfolk with your presence, sir,” the man schmoozed with a grin that was far too toothy and a gaze that wandered in such a manner that Aziraphale longed to step before Crowley and snarl at him with a deep, chesty growl, frightening him back into his place. </p><p>To Aziraphale’s great mortification, Crowley was undeterred, and took the flowers in his unoccupied, gloved hand with a polite nod and a <em> wink.  </em></p><p>“Then I thank you, my good man, and I wish you a very fine day indeed,” he laughed, taking a deep inhale of the blossoms and smiling down at them as they walked away. He turned back to Aziraphale a moment later, as if nothing had occurred, and began to regale him yet again with some ridiculous anecdote that was, at its core, a tale of abandoned manners veiled with charm. </p><p>And Aziraphale had quite seen through the veil indeed. By taking those flowers from a strange Alpha- a <em> commoner, </em>no less- Crowley had exposed himself for what he truly was; a bored Omega, hungry for attention from someone new and exciting. That was all. </p><p>Not unlike Raphael.</p><p>For as much devastation as he felt, Aziraphale was suddenly very glad he should see so soon. Yes, Crowley was charming, clever, skilled in a myriad of activities, and humorous, and yet he was somehow unmated at nearly twenty nine years of age. Aziraphale had seen the Alphas aching to court him. Crowley had turned them down. It was the chase he was after, not the destination. He was not fragile. Not sweet. Not earnest or humble. He was well aware of his strengths, and appeared to have no weaknesses, armed with his carelessness of any negative opinion towards himself or the feelings of others. </p><p>He was a snake hidden in the grass, seeking out its next target. Aziraphale could not let himself be bitten again. The Omega had no true interest in him. He was simply the most interesting prospect to come along, and no doubt Crowley would tire of him quite quickly when he realized he was quite content living a quiet life with his nose stuck in a book. There would be no scandalous trysts outside of courtship. No adventures to be had. No fawning at his feet. </p><p>Aziraphale very nearly wished to cry. How blinded he’d been by a non-traditionally pretty face and some deliberately poor manners. </p><p>“Lord Fell?”</p><p>When Aziraphale looked up, he found deep concern etched across Crowley’s face, a slightly singed edge to his scent, indicating distress. His parasol was closed, twisted in one fist, the flowers snatched in the other. Oh, against all his better judgement, he still found that aroma so lovely. He wanted to envelope himself into it. Live his life among that lovely herb garden, touched by sweet honey. </p><p>Crowley had been nattering on, no doubt finding himself quite amusing, and had become disconcerted the moment Aziraphale stopped entertaining him. How fitting. </p><p>“I wouldn’t endeavor to impose myself and ask after whatever ails you, but I do wish I could help,” he sighed. For a moment, Aziraphale wondered how he could possibly feign the worry rushing so deeply into those lovely eyes. Like the colors and patterns of a venomous serpent, he identified, a warning to stay away. Crowley bit his lip, looking around to ensure their solitude, and stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper. “If… if it would help… I could....-”</p><p><em> “Absolutely not,” </em>Aziraphale spat so harshly it surprised them both. All the color snapped out of Crowley’s freckled face before flooding it again in great force, and he suddenly became quite taken with a particular crack in a board of the bandstand they stood upon. Aziraphale felt a great surge of self-loathing swell within his chest. In part for refusing to be scented with that beautiful aroma. No doubt it would push all worries from his mind, as was the purpose of its offering- but he couldn’t submit to such temptation. He couldn’t become distracted. He couldn’t allow himself to be bitten. </p><p>In equal measure, he was angry at himself for snapping at the Omega in such an uncomely manner. That lovely scent was now an herb garden set ablaze, the honey caramelizing and burning and becoming quite bitter. How could he be angry at Crowley for something that was so deeply ingrained in his nature? Of course, it would be inappropriate to be scented by him, but it was an Omega’s deepest instinct- to soothe, to calm and care for. Surely, he shouldn’t be embarrassed and shamed for it at all, let alone in public.</p><p>“Oh gosh,” Crowley managed out at last, “I’m- I’m so terribly sorry, it’s just that-”</p><p>“No, my dear, I should be the one to apologize,” Aziraphale interrupted. It became of the utmost importance to speak in a clear, firm manner that was not so cruel as the one he had hosted a moment prior. There were boundaries to put in place, that was all. “It’s just that I’ve become quite aware how inappropriate our current situation is.” </p><p>“Oh…,” Crowley exhaled, looking at him with wide, confused, slightly wounded eyes. Oh, it made Aziraphale’s heart ache with an overwhelming wretchedness. “I… I suppose so. I just thought- if we were courting-”</p><p>“We’re <em> not </em>courting,” Aziraphale snapped. </p><p><em> Down, old chap, </em> he scolded himself, <em> stern, not unfeeling.  </em></p><p>Crowley’s face darkened in color. Dear, it was so monstrous to keep embarrassing him like this. Aziraphale’s father would no doubt be appalled at his only Alpha child’s cruel treatment of an Omega who’d done nothing but had the audacity to fancy him. He’d raised him better.</p><p><em> Not fancy, </em> that little voice in himself whispered, <em> He was going to charm and use you for all you’re worth. He was playing with you. The moment you loved him, he’d be gone in a flash.  </em></p><p>“No, no of course not,” Crowley stumbled, “But we <em> are </em>friends-”</p><p>“We’re not friends!” Aziraphale rushed out in a panic, his mouth snatching up his paranoia and running away with it as if it were contested in a race, “I don’t even like you!” </p><p>That earned a scoff from Crowley, he looked the slightest bit braver through his glaring misery, even having the strength to match Aziraphale’s gaze. It was quite a show of courage, really, an Omega looking a worked-up Alpha straight in the eye. Despite the mindset he was desperate to maintain, Aziraphale felt himself worrying about it- about <em> Crowley. </em>The wrong Alpha, and such an act could get him mauled. </p><p>“You <em> do!” </em>Crowley identified easily, “Or do you write great professions likening the color of the sunrise to the eyes of all you hold contempt for?”</p><p><em> I do, it’s true- but I mustn’t! </em>Aziraphale wished to cry, feeling his face color in embarrassment and distress. Truly, his letter had been something quite intimate, inappropriately so, but that had been when he thought Lord Anthony’s intentions to be honest. </p><p>His gaze flickered about the bandstand in a hurried panic. No matter how deeply the truth of his admiration ran, he could not become slave to feelings that would inevitably serve to wound him. </p><p>“We’re- we’re hereditary enemies!” he insisted, raising his stormy blue eyes to find a dubious expression fixed past Crowley’s glower, “I am an Alpha in search of a loyal, lifelong mate, and you are an Omega who is determined not to be mated.” </p><p>The scent redoubled in its injury, a look of pain shooting across Crowley’s face, and without another moment’s passing, Aziraphale deeply regretted his words. Crowley’s plush lower lip was slackened in a slight gape, his eyes wide and- oh blast it all- slightly wet. His cheeks were mottled with shock and embarrassment. Aziraphale didn’t need to guess; he’d ripped the plasters off a deep wound that had never healed, torn it open, exposed it to the elements against Crowley’s will. </p><p>He watched Crowley attempt to reclaim his faculties with no short amount of guilt. The slight curve of his adam’s apple battled up and down before at last, he said, in a voice no doubt meant to be assertive but drowned out in emotion, “What would make you believe such a thing? I’m not- I’m- you’ve been gravely misled, Lord Fell.” </p><p>He looked away, jaw working in slow pulses. Mismatched eyes turned skyward, blinking quickly, until lidding down. With a few slow breaths, he regained his composure, and looked back at Aziraphale with an impossibly stubborn defiance. </p><p>“I rather assumed you knew I was very open to courtship. In fact, I even assumed that you might-”</p><p>“Well you mustn’t have assumed,” Aziraphale clipped, turning away as if to shield himself from the damage he knew he was doing- as if the distressed scent that made his inner Alpha howl in a desperate clamber to <em> protect </em> and <em> care for </em>the Omega before him wasn’t wafting heavily through the air. He closed his eyes, deciding to put an end to this, once and for all. Crowley could find another toy to play with easily enough. </p><p>“You go too fast for me, Cro- Lord Anthony.” </p><p>It took no short amount of fortitude to keep from counting the seconds of silence that passed, but after what seemed to be far too many, stretching on in painful pangs, he heard Crowley’s parasol pop back open. </p><p>“Right,” he heard. </p><p>“Well,” soon followed, a bit more distant, and as he at last ceded his gaze, he found the slender form retreating down the path way. </p><p>“A good day to you, Lord Fell,” Crowley shouted over his shoulder. </p><p>Aziraphale was powerless to do anything but watch. The Omega strayed from the path and onto the damp grass, no doubt ruining his fine, expensive boots to make his way over to a group of pups, distributing the flowers among them and mussing the locks of a little girl who jumped giddily up to him before making his way to the gates. </p><p>He looked back for hardly a moment, and time stopped. Aziraphale’s heart ached until it bled. His mind went blank, overcome with the power of his true Alpha nature. His instincts urged him to run to him, to take him into his arms and kiss the pain away, to smother the distress with his own scent and claim him so thoroughly with the aroma that no other Alpha would dare approach him. </p><p>Instead, he simply watched, until the green-clad form became obscured in the bustling crowd. </p><p>Aziraphale felt, with an overwhelming magnitude, as if he had made a grave mistake.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sure I pulled a fast one on you guys with the bandstand/"you go too fast for me" scene all rolled into one in chapter three. I promise I'll make it up to you, if not immediately ;P Old wounds can make us do stupid, stupid things. But I hope you guys enjoyed the letters! I had a lot of fun writing each of them in character for so long! </p><p>This is shaping up to be closer to a 20~ chapter fic because I have absolutely NO self control ;P Hopefully that's a good thing. </p><p>I know a lot of you said you haven't read A/B/O fics before, so I thought I'd recommend my absolute favorite Omegaverse fic in this fandom! Seared Into Skin by Vegabond. It's in a similar era, but Aziraphale and Crowley navigate an arranged marriage, never having met before their wedding day. A lovely story that's definitely worth a read!<br/>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470514/chapters/53692384</p><p>Thank you so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter! I appreciate it you guys for reading this and sharing the love SO much!! </p><p>Feel free to hmu up to share thoughts, yell with me, or ask questions at:<br/>Twitter: get_wrexed<br/>Tumblr: getwrexed</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: sexual harassment (via a single thigh grope over clothing and demeaning speech), blood</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You <em> can’t </em>be serious,” lamented the Lady Alpha.</p><p>“I’m perfectly serious, Anathema,” Crowley mumbled in reply, chasing the confession with a lofty sigh.</p><p>The Lord Omega had himself draped over an armchair in his dear friend’s drawing room in an impolite fashion, as to be expected. His needlework lay abandoned in his lap as he took favor in staring out the window at the dreary, rainy plains of Cheshire. At last, Beatrix had excused herself to write a letter to her friend Lord Ligur, and Crowley was left unchaperoned to regale his dear American friend Anathema, newly appointed Countess of Cheshire, with his troubling tale. </p><p>“He said <em> you </em>were going too fast? After writing you a love letter, trailing after you like a lovestruck pup, and asking for your friendship?”</p><p>“It was hardly a love letter,” the Omega sighed again, twisting in his chair to flop onto his back with no amount of grace and to gaze at the intricate ceiling. Undeniably, there were specific amorous qualities to the letter under debate. Qualities that had inspired him to flail about in his nest and squeal into his pillow with the thrill of being thoroughly flattered and flustered. How could he resist such an impulse upon finding himself to be, at long last, after twenty-eight years, the object of admiration to an Alpha he so fiercely fancied? No one had ever relayed such sweet sentiments to him before. Evidently, no one should ever do so again. </p><p>“Well either way. What happened next?” Anathema asked, her deep sandalwood and amber scent lit aflame at the injustice with a protective fury that served to flatter the Omega, though it was likely not intended for such a purpose. A deep growl was rumbling in her chest, and she made not the slightest action towards dampening it. Oh, how Crowley <em> did </em>find her bluntness and passion a refreshing escape from high society. </p><p>“I wished him well and walked away,” Crowley said, barely above a whisper. </p><p>“And he <em> let </em>you?” </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“What a bastard!” she snarled. </p><p>“No! No that’s not-,” the words poured forth as Crowley shot into a sitting position, fixing his dear companion with wild, desperate eyes before finding her dubious glower. With a sigh as gloomy as the skies outside, the Omega nestled back against the pillows of his chair, running idle fingers over the colorful silk thread of his embroidery, “If he is, it’s in… well, in the most delightful way. He meets any challenge eagerly and has the quickest wit, but he’s very kind, really. Terribly so. With the warmest eyes you could ever imagine and <em> such </em> a wonderful humor. He has this manner about him, where he focuses on you so intently that you feel as if you were the only person in the world- the only matter to hold his concern. It’s like- like time stops and it’s just the two of you.” </p><p>“How unusually romantic of you to say, Crowley,” Anathema mumbled in intrigue, a brow raised. </p><p>“Oh, will you shut up!” Crowley growled in frustration, as much as an Omega <em> could </em> growl, which more likened an annoyed barncat than a dangerous predator, and was often infantilized as something very cute. He threw himself down again with no shortage of dramatics, flinging his needlework to the floor. “You see! You see what he’s done to me, walking his infuriating, handsome face into my life? Looking and acting like an actual angel? Treating my incapacity for biting my tongue and sitting on my hands as if it’s the most charming, delightful thing he’s ever experienced? Making me feel special in a way no one else has? The complete nerve of him, to put me under the impression that he might be serious! To have me <em> woo </em>over him like some silly, hopelessly romantic Omega!”</p><p>“You <em> are </em>a silly, hopelessly romantic Omega,” Anathema pointed out with no shortage of amusement, “You always have been. You simply always assumed that the Alpha of your fantasies could not be real.” </p><p>“And evidently, they are <em> not,” </em>he groaned, “I only wish I knew what I’d done wrong to make him look at me in such a way, with that unfamiliar chill and distance…”</p><p>“You couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong from what you’ve told me.”</p><p>“I <em> must </em> have done!” he cried in exasperation, twisting to lodge a mournful look against his old friend. “One moment he looks at me as if I hung the stars, the next as if I tore them down. He looked so- so terribly disappointed. I rather thought he- he <em> fancied </em>me for my ways. How silly of me. No Alpha would ever possibly wish to burden themselves with such a wild mate.” </p><p>“Oh, little pup. That’s not true at all.”</p><p>“It is, and perhaps it’s about time to throw in the towel and face the music. I’ll die an old, lonely spinster with no pups, title, or mate to call my own.” </p><p>Anathema huffed, rolling her dark eyes behind her tortoiseshell spectacles. Her scent betrayed her irritation. </p><p>“Don’t be dramatic. If you’d like, we can call off this whole ridiculous party. I’ll write Lucius and ask to court you, we can marry, and you’ll never have to worry about anyone oppressing or controlling you for a day in your life.” </p><p>Crowley did his best to pin her down with a morose look, but he couldn’t help but have his spirits lifted upon the realization that his dear friend was quite serious. It was a sweet offer, albeit a ridiculous one. The pair of them were like siblings. So much so that his family took no qualm with his being alone with her or exchanging scents and platonic touches. The thought of <em> mating </em> with her made his nostril wrinkle. The thought of <em> bonding </em>was too uncomfortable to entertain. A terribly unflattering snort escaped him, and he sat up yet again. </p><p>“As delighted as Apa would be, I’m hardly that selfish. Just because I’ve no chance for love doesn’t mean you shouldn’t, either,” he scolded before a grin crept onto his features at last, “I think you’re just attempting to get out of this ball.”</p><p>“I don’t <em> want </em> it!” she pouted in defeat.</p><p>He fixed her with a roll of her eyes. </p><p>“Yes, well, the planning is far too progressed to turn back,” he declared in triumph, “And even if you don’t find an Omega that catches your attention, you’ll make important friends and earn a reputation.”</p><p>Or perhaps, at the very least, receive a discreet suggestion for where to find a proper courtesan. Surely, she must desire companionship at the very least. All unmated Alphas of age outside courtship or engagement had the right to a courtesan to ease their frustrations and pent up anger until they had an Omega of their own to take up the task, keeping their tempers mild enough to engage with polite society and their hormones properly managed to pursue a courtship with the right reasons in mind.  While as an Omega he was tasked to feign ignorance on such matters, he knew for a fact she’d yet to employ any such services since arriving in England. </p><p>“A reputation only gained because a sweet old friend has volunteered to plan an entire event for me. Should I truly take the credit for your efforts?”</p><p>“Oh, Anathema,” Crowley teased with a snicker and a wicked grin, “You’re in England now. A member of high society. Taking credit for Omegas’ labors is what Alphas <em> do.”  </em></p><p>Very well pleased by the grin and put-upon eyeroll the Alpha offered him, the Omega picked up his abandoned and abused needlework at last, setting his labors back upon it.</p><p>“Besides, It’s the least I can do. You know how very pleased I am to have you on the same side of the pond with me at long last. It would do you good to have company, perhaps even <em> special </em>company,” he attempted to persuade. Anathema did not look convinced. With a slight huff, he carried on, “If it pleases you, I have a selfish reason as well. You’ll remember I first smelled my True Mate’s scent here, though it was in a crowd... but perhaps I shall meet them, should we invite the same company.”</p><p>Anathema raised her brows over her spectacles. </p><p>“I would be very happy for you, but that could prove tricky. It’s not like you’ll go into heat <em> again </em>after smelling them a second time. I suppose you wouldn’t know unless it was... “</p><p>“Skin-to-skin contact, I know,” Crowley huffed, “but perhaps I’ll simply… oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I shall intuit it upon seeing him. Or her- of course.”</p><p>Anathema raised a brow at him. </p><p>“You always have had quite the fantastical imagination, Crowley.”</p><p>He pouted, focusing harder on his embroidery than he strictly needed to. True Mates were practically a thing of myths. Straight out of a story book. It’d been unlikely enough to cross paths once. Touching was a terrible inappropriate faux-pas until a certain level of courtship, and no doubt trial-and-error would make him vastly uncomfortable and worsen his already ailing reputation. No. The greatest likelihood was that he never would discover that person, lest they had smelled him in turn and could identify his scent. </p><p>“Well. In any case, all the people and scents will help me get my- <em> that </em>Alpha’s, rather, out of my head. I can’t seem to put it out of my mind, no matter how hard I do try. It was even on the letter. It remains so, though it’s fading. I wish I had the power to throw it away, but I confess I keep it even now, for my dark days.”</p><p>“Oh, come now, you can’t be that affected by a scent,” Anathema criticized.</p><p>“Oh, but that’s the <em> trouble, </em>Anathema. I can- and I am. Despite the… the contempt he seems to hold for me, the wrong he’s found in me, his musk eases my nerves unbelievably so. It’s like… like old, well-loved books and sharp black tea, warmed with honey. A single sniff and it’s nearly more comforting than even my nest could be…,” he trailed off with a sigh. </p><p>For a moment, he fantasized about having it all- Lord Fell’s dizzying scent rubbed all over the blankets of his nest, and his cheeks burned. Even with his disregard for what was proper to say or think or do, thinking about an Alpha in such a way was a bit overwhelming for his senses, and much to his aggrievement, it turned him a bit bashful and disoriented.</p><p>After several more stitches, he realized his companion was rather silent and lifted his head to find her fixing him with a quizzical expression.</p><p>“And what have I done to inspire such curiosity? Have I turned into the Cheshire cat- or perhaps the caterpillar, speaking in riddles?”</p><p>“Crowley, could this suitor that you’ve been speaking of possibly be Lord Aziraphale Fell?” </p><p>Heat flooded Crowley’s face, and he grimaced at her before tossing his project onto a mahogany table at last, deciding he was rather finished for the time being.</p><p>“Only you could turn my confidence into gossip!” he huffed before standing, the Alpha rising to her feet quickly after, “Now, it’s nearly eleven, I’ve a discussion with your cook about the ball before lunch, and afterwards I’m in meetings with vendors and decorators all day. I’ve still <em> no </em>idea what topics we shall discuss at dinner upon receiving our guests. Oh, and the order of dances requires planning as well.”</p><p>Anathema smirked, “For complaining so much about Omega obligations, you’re very proficient at such tasks.” </p><p>“Of course I am, and for your information, I am quite happy doing the work expected of a high society Omega, so long as my interests and activities may extend past it. I’m very envied for my taste, you know, and I’ve plenty of years perfecting the fine art of hosting from observing Ama.”</p><p>“Yes,” Anathema hummed, “And it seems that taste is <em> expensive, </em>so far. Any way we might pull back a bit on the funds required for this ball?” </p><p>Crowley scoffed, finding it one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever heard. His Apa would never make such a request of his Ama. Did Anathema wish for a pleasant ball? Or did she wish for her guests to leave and gossip about the cheap American playing Countess?</p><p>“Oh yes, Anathema. What a fine sentiment to earn you a mate. Perhaps we shall send letters out with the budget you’ve available for an Omega price, and ensure any guests that desire to come meet your expectations, first.”</p><p>She held her arms up in defeat, “No need to bare your teeth, Omega. Plan away. Do whatever you please with my money. Throw it into the river, should you like.” </p><p>“If I'm going to do something, Alpha, I'm going to do it with style. No boring dances or uppity conversation here. They're going to be talking about this for <em>ages,</em>" Crowley hummed with a smirk, putting his nose in the air.</p><p>"Hmm," Anathema countered with a roll of her eyes, "so this <em>is </em>about you."</p><p>"Oy! You're the one that insisted coming to help might aid in chasing away my boredom. Here I am. Now I insist you suffer through an incredible enjoyment of the fabulous ball I'm throwing you." </p><p>The Alpha laughed, shaking her head at him, " and do you mind if I invite my cousin to this monumental affair? I’ll write the letter myself, you don’t need to worry about it.” </p><p>Crowley groaned. Just like Anathema- or any Alpha, really- to throw forth plan-altering contributions last minute and expect him to shift all his arrangements around to accommodate. </p><p>“Please tell me they are an Alpha. We’ve too many Omegas and Betas as is.” </p><p>“He is. Though I’ve a Beta cousin as well that might be soon to follow as soon as he finishes business matters.”</p><p>“Fine. Will that be all? I’ve a busy day ahead of me, and I’ve promised your grandmother a tea-blending lesson this afternoon.”</p><p>“That’s all that won’t make you wish to tear my head from my shoulders, yes. Gosh, you’re feral when you’re planning.” </p><p>Crowley barked out a laugh, “Hardly. You should see Ama before a party. Now <em> that’s </em>a prospect that should strike fear into any heart. Even Apa's."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Cousin Anathema!” Aziraphale exclaimed, overcome with relief at the sight of his distant relative. After his heartbreak with Raphael years ago, he had fled to America, making her acquaintance and finding a kindred spirit in her before being kindly permitted to hide away in her forest cottage for nearly half a year. He might not have returned to the brutality of noble life had his parents not demanded his return to England. Anathema was now a human salve for the old wound of his heart, and having been reminded of it so recently, seeing her figure, with her wild green skirts and the long brown hair she improperly wore half-down, soothed his nerves with a magnificent impact. “Oh it <em> is </em>good to see you!"</p><p>“Hello Cousin Aziraphale,” she said, tugging him forth to scent him, having the right to do so since he was entering her doman. It would be inappropriate as her guest to scent her back, but of course, in her American ways, she tugged him forth to scent herself on him despite courtesy, drawing a laugh from him. When she pulled away,  a certain gleam was shining in her eye that brought forth the suggestion in his mind that he might be in some sort of trouble. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he could have done to earn it. Instead of pondering it, he moved down the greeting line of household staff and occupants, finding his way to the old Beta woman beside Anathema.</p><p>“And Agnes, my goodness, you look younger than ever!” </p><p>“Great flatterer, you,” Anathema’s grandmother, grinned, “That’ll most certainly come in handy, if what the fates have been whispering to me about you are to be believed.” </p><p>“Oh, yes, of course- the fates,” Aziraphale teased, earning the sucking of Agnes’s teeth as she pinched his cheek and tugged him down to scent herself on him in greeting. </p><p>“Thank you for responding so quickly,” the Lady Alpha of the house cooed, taking Aziraphale’s arm and turning to enter the house alongside him. </p><p>“Of course, you said you desired my presence and so here I am, and my Lord, I don’t know what I expected to find of your estate when you inherited the title, but <em> gracious, </em>Anathema,” he breathed upon entering the massive estate, nearly double the size of his own, rich with history, and boasting décor from every corner of the world.</p><p>“I know,” she lamented, “Ridiculous isn’t it? If it weren’t my job now to preserve it, I’d get rid of the great big relic and get something reasonable, with a smaller staff.”</p><p>Aziraphale scoffed. He’d had his doubts upon her instatement as Countess of Cheshire, but such sentiments truly did not bode seriousness for the vast responsibility upon her shoulders. </p><p>“It’s a <em> duty </em> , not a <em> job.”  </em></p><p>“Oh yeah,” she smirked, “Gosh, I forgot what a pompous fella you are.” </p><p>“I’m- I’m not- I’m a <em> Viscount,” </em>he scoffed. </p><p>With a calm, steady laugh, she waved him inside, “Yeah well, I guess now I’m a bit big for my britches too. C’mon, fellow <em> Lord. </em> Let me give you a tour.” </p><p>If Aziraphale had thought the manor was something to be in awe of before, he was blown away as they took the better half of two hours meandering through the hallways. It was an eclectic place, no doubt, filled with the strangest art and décor, but an architectural marvel. He nearly asked to see the gardens, but Anathema assured him quite ominously that it was not a wise idea at present and it’d be the best for them to steer clear. She did a similar thing when they passed the morning room, referring to its current status as ‘a nightmare’, which Aziraphale found very peculiar, seeing as the household was unable to boast any Omega head of house who might do business there.</p><p>With their tour at an end they settled in the drawing room, one of the oddest rooms of all, boasting bright turquoise walls and purple upholstery. In the corner rest lovely embroidery at work, beautiful flowers patterned out of remarkable detail over a long green strip of satin. This seemed a mystery to him, as he was well aware that neither Anathema nor Agnes had practiced needlework. Perhaps they had taken it on since their last meeting, but then it boasted far too many artistic, skilled embellishments for a beginner. </p><p>They were nearly about to call for tea, in the middle of discussion over a recent literary acquisition, when the door was thrown ajar unceremoniously. He shot to his feet at the entrance of a tall, bustling body, which twisted around at the entrance, tearing off their coat and hat and spinning in flustered circles to place down an armful of ribbons and flowers. </p><p>“My <em> God, </em> Anathema, I thought the estate was an anachronism and then I attempted to do business in your town! If you would please be so kind as to distribute a decree that we are now <em> officially </em> in the twentieth century I would be most grateful. And while you’re at it, get these <em> bloody </em>scalpers out of the county! In order to approve these sorry excuses for merchants the last Lord Alpha must have had his head buried in a hole- Got rest his soul and may he rest in peace and all that rubbish of course-,” the figure rattled on in their rampage, and before he even turned around, the scent reached Aziraphale. </p><p>Herbs and honey.</p><p>Lord Anthony Crowley- but how? How could he and Anathema possibly be acquainted- so much so that he would feel comfortable criticizing her so and treating her home as if it were his own? She’d only come from America a scant few months ago!</p><p>Whatever the cause, he was here now. Mere weeks after their last encounter. Despite the short passage of time, Aziraphale felt it might have been right for him to look aged somehow, or different, but he didn’t. He looked exactly the same. </p><p>The red flame of his hair was in a humorous disarray from the careless removal of his hat. His freckles were still bounteous and his skin was still tan. His long, slender limbs still moved in a hypnotizing, graceful manner seductive in its very execution. He was still loud and opinionated and careless of propriety. He was still the most beautiful creature Aziraphale had ever laid eyes upon.</p><p>He made his way to the window, holding ribbons of fabric into the sunlight to compare against the heavy drapes and peculiar wall coverings. </p><p>“-and even if there <em> was </em> proper business I’ve no idea how I’m to accessorize such a peculiar manor with anything but white! White, Anathema! It’s not a bloody wedding! Not that there <em> could </em> be a wedding here. Should this ball be a success I’ll need to come back before you start courting <em> anyone </em> here and redesign the entire manor- oh and this room- <em> this </em> room, no one’s to come into it! I’ve a hard enough time attempting to coordinate arrangements that are half passable in an <em> orange </em>saloon! Orange! Was the last Lady Omega of the house barkin’ mad- again, rest in peace blah blah blah. But why orange?! Honestly-” at last the Omega turned to deliver his grievances to the Lady Alpha of the home. Instead, entrancing mismatched eyes fell on Aziraphale. </p><p>As if he’d seen a ghost, Crowley started back, the color washing out of his face in a stark suddenness. The aroma of a burning herb garden wafted through the room, indicative of a genuine distress that surprised Aziraphale greatly. </p><p>Of course, he felt no pride when considering his abhorrent behavior in the park, but he had assumed the Omega would forget him quickly, eager to move onto more willing Alphas. Evidently, he had imparted an even worse impression than he had feared. </p><p>“What are you-?” Crowley started, but he must have realized such a direct question was rather rude and fell silent. He opted to stare at the floor in discomfort. “Anathema, there weren’t to be guests for three evenings yet.” </p><p>Anathema laughed, “You’ll forgive Lord Anthony’s manners, Cousin Aziraphale, I’m sure. Crowley, this is Lord Aziraphale Fell.”</p><p><em> “Cous-,” </em>he started again, a wild flush burning through his freckled face. His scent only grew more upset. Aziraphale suffered a great vexation, saddled even more so with guilt. His instincts urged him to rush forth and soothe Crowley with a rumbling, protective growl and a smear of his scent, only he couldn’t. Not only would such course of action be abominably forward, but he himself was the cause of upset to begin with. No doubt his musk was atrocious to Crowley, now. He’d never meant to cause such harm to a perfectly respectable Omega. Crowley seemed to regather his faculties, huffing and shifting to snatch his hat back into his hands before snapping with no shortage of contempt, “Yes. We’re acquainted.”</p><p>“Oh, are you?” the Lady Alpha inquired, only to receive a dark glower from mismatched eyes. </p><p>“Lord Fell, as <em> delightful </em>I would find the prospect of catching up, I’m rather busy. Anathema, I’m hiring staff and dismantling your garden to make arrangements myself. Good afternoon to the both of you,” he blustered without sparing the slightest acknowledgement to the Lord Alpha in the way of his gaze. He departed in an unbelievably greater whirlwind than when he had entered.</p><p>His distressed scent hung in the air, the silence a stark slap against the frenzied and profane, if not really quite endearing, chatter that had poured forth from the Omega upon his initial entry. </p><p>“Not friends, then?” Anathema inquired, a brow raised. </p><p>Aziraphale huffed, his face falling to his hands so he might scrub it in exhausted confusion.</p><p>“We were, for a time. I enjoyed his company greatly. Only I realized he was a danger to my happiness and panicked, treating him in a most contemptible manner.” </p><p>“How on earth could Anthony Crowley be a danger to your happiness? You hardly seem the type to cringe away from an outspoken Omega, especially given your Ama’s education.” </p><p>“Oh no- no, no, my dear. I quite <em> like </em>his demeanor. How are you acquainted, anyhow?” Aziraphale voiced his wonder at last.</p><p>“Our fathers grew up together, when I came to study in England before you and I connected, I stayed with the Crowleys in the summertime. Crowley was only twelve when I first met him. Just a pup. He’s like a little brother to me- and the dearest Omega of my social pack, so you’ll forgive me if I request a more thorough explanation of why you would treat him contemptibly.” </p><p>With a deep sigh, Aziraphale recounted the tale of their friendship, including the events of the shooting party, confessing to writing a somewhat amorous letter, detailing the encounter with Raphael, and describing his revelation of Crowley. He was met with a dubious look, a protective growl rumbling forth from Anathema that surprised him no small amount. </p><p>“A most complicated story. While I empathize with the reminder of your suffering after your encounter with Raphael, I believe you’ve judged Crowley most unfairly.” </p><p>He ducked his head and sighed, “Anathema, you cannot possibly tell me he doesn’t charm every unmated Alpha that might cross his path, whether they find themselves willing to such an admission or not.” </p><p>“I don’t pretend to tell you anything of the sort, but Aziraphale, that doesn’t mean he <em> takes interest </em>in a single one of them! Why else would he remain unmated?”</p><p>Aziraphale huffed with a shrug of his shoulders, “So he may remain free to humor many Alphas without finding himself bound to a single one, I suppose.” </p><p>Anathema scoffed, the chesty rumble only magnifying in volume. </p><p>“You suppose wrongly. Crowley is not a <em> teenager </em>fresh from having been presented to court, and he’s most certainly not cruel. In fact, he’s the sweetest Omega I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, with the softest heart.”</p><p><em> “‘Sweet’, </em>Anathema, really?” Aziraphale deadpanned doubtfully. </p><p>Wild, adventurous, charming, cunning, or clever, perhaps. However over the duration of his acquaintance with Crowley, he had not seen evidence of softness, vulnerability, or sweetness. He was prideful and did not hesitate to offend, tease, or expose. </p><p>The expression upon his cousin’s face implied his entire perception must have been wrong, as she presented a stance of great insult.</p><p>“Yes, <em> really! </em> See for yourself! Perhaps he puts on that grand front, but he’s atrocious at keeping it. You’ll see his true colors very quickly, and until you do and <em> apologize </em>to him for your ill judgement, I shan’t let you leave!” </p><p>“You’re… what? Taking me hostage, dear Cousin? Whatever shall you do upon my attempt to depart? Call Scotland Yard?” </p><p>“Worse. I’ll inform your Ama of your treatment towards my dear friend, and I’m sure he’ll have words to share with your Apa.” </p><p>Aziraphale fixed her with a gaze of very mild amusement. </p><p>“You’re threatening to <em> tell my father </em>on me?”</p><p>“Not threatening- promising,” she grumbled with a wicked grin, “Anyway, just keep an open mind, Aziraphale, that’s all I’m asking.” </p><p>While the threat was a most underhanded one, Aziraphale supposed Crowley deserved to be understood for who he was. A part of him was very afraid of being wrong- at facing the idea that an innocent Omega had overcome fear and trepidation to hold a candle for him that he’d effectively smacked from his hand. Another part, one he’d rather thought he had rid himself of up until gazing at the fiery redhead only a few moments earlier, ached to be proven incorrect in his assumptions, to find the Omega was every bit as lovely as he had thought and to pursue him with his best efforts. If he did, would Crowley possibly take that candle back up? Had he ruined the possibility of proving himself a capable Alpha who would protect him after all the hurt and misunderstanding he’d caused?</p><p>Anathema appeared pleased at his entrapment into complex thought. </p><p>“There you are, just like that,” the Lady Alpha teased. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * * </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Crowley paced angrily through the garden, hat refastened tightly over his head with a sheer red strip of fabric, slashing stems and chucking the flowers in a basket with an angry force and a pair of gardening shears. </p><p>“There’s no excuse to look this bloody dull! You lot need to <em> grow better,” </em>he hissed at the plants as he decapitated them. </p><p>Of course, his true anger lay with Anathema. She’d known. She’d <em> known </em> and she still invited him here. And oh, perhaps Crowley had been colder than he <em> needed </em> to be but what else could he possibly be tasked to do when Lord Fell was <em> there? </em>He was still so lovely, so handsome. A look of absolute torment crossed his face when Crowley had jumped back, radiating distress. His rich musk had grown damp and concerned, the honey note dulling and the fresh parchment growing slightly charred. All evidence of care Crowley had given up hope for. An angel taking pity on an Omega that didn’t meet his standards. </p><p>Crowley still ached with misunderstanding. Lord Fell had found his impropriety so charming before, and Crowley couldn’t imagine what else would make him unappealing? Of course, he dreamed of adventure, yearned for the freedom to be wild and be loved for it, but he had never neglected the expectations for a well-bred Omega of his social stature. He had an impeccable taste for fashion and was well organized, he could garden, play piano, sing, and embroider. He had a dear love of pups and wanted some of his own. He could entertain and handle household crises very well. And yet, somehow, he remained unwanted by the very few Alphas who had caught his interest over the last decade. </p><p>Lord Fell’s rejection hurt the worst of all of them.</p><p>Dinner the night before had been a thoroughly awkward affair. Crowley had worn scent patches, kept his head down and his mouth shut. He might have been rude. Might have pitched a fit. He might have embarrassed Lord Fell until he left the manor and never returned, but for once in his life, he didn’t believe that poor behavior would make him feel any better. Indeed, he was of the opinion that lashing out at Lord Fell for the simple transgression of not returning his feelings might make him feel much <em> worse </em>. </p><p>Naturally, Beatrix was aware of the events that had transpired in the park, and her foul scent of anger and death glares at the other visiting Alpha had not eased the tension. It remained peaceful, as Crowley had begged her earlier in the day for a peaceful dinner without accosting Lord Fell, and with some puppy eyes and batting lashes, she grumbled an agreement. He’d excused himself early in the evening, eager to rest up, seeing as he had a very busy few days of planning before the impending ball, and he wished to get up early to see Beatrix off on their venture. The moment he shut his door, he’d buried himself in his makeshift nest, torn off his patches, and inhaled his own scent with no shortage of relief, careless of its scorched edge. </p><p>Weeks after the words transpired on the bandstand and the pain felt sharper and more real than it had that day. </p><p>A distant roaring pulled Crowley from his furious thoughts and saved the innocent flowers of Anathema’s garden from their fate, if not only for a moment. He stood upright, cocking his head. The roaring started at a low pitch and grew higher, then started again a note higher than the previous revving. The location from which it could be heard was a moving target through the woods, slowly shifting to the front of the manner before the pitch suddenly dropped. </p><p>He’d never heard anything like it. </p><p>Well aware that a journey inside came at the cost of a potential run in with Lord Fell, Crowley found it worthwhile for a chance at satiating his curiosity. A mildly familiar voice sounded from the entry hall, yet he could not place his owner. He sniffed as he entered the vast space, inhaling the scent of ginger. Anathema’s sandalwood and amber was as strong and steady as ever, and of course, all aromas paled in comparison to that of old leather, black tea, and parchment. It was a large group of Alphas, and Crowley felt nervous without any Omega backup. Agnes was not in the foyer, and so he was left without any Beta, too, who might neutralize the company. He ensured his patches were secure before turning the corner. </p><p>The angular, handsome face he found was indeed familiar, though he hadn’t seen it in nearly ten years. How could he forget the first Alpha who had treated him with fondness upon his formal presentation to the court? Mr. Furcas had encouraged Crowley’s wild spirit, in fact, fully embracing it. He’d even promised him an adventure, if he came to visit, although Crowley had never been able to take up such an intriguing offer; Beatrix had once been friends with him, and they’d had some terrible falling out. </p><p>She’d given Crowley a brief warning against the man, insisting the details were far too sordid for an Omega’s ears. Naturally, Crowley couldn’t help but assume it was a personal matter, as Mr. Furcas had presented himself as a delightful friend to him. Crowley could not pretend he himself was without flaw or his own distasteful experiences. How could he scorn such an enjoyable Alpha for having mistakes in his past?  Luckily, his sister had gone to town for ‘business’ over the next couple evenings, trusting Agnes to serve as a proper chaperone to her little brother.</p><p>“Mr. Furcas?” Crowley asked in delight, coming forward.</p><p>The gentleman looked surprised, dark brows raising over darker, almost abyssal eyes. </p><p>“Lord Anthony Crowley, is that really you?” </p><p>“Unless my doppelganger is back at it again,” he teased, feeling quite self-punishing as soon as he shared the joke, private to him and Lord Fell. He felt that angel’s eyes upon him, searching, smelled his hesitation and intrigue. </p><p>“My,” the new arrival’s eyes scanned over his body in a way he might have considered predatory, had he not known better, “You’ve certainly grown up, haven’t you?” </p><p>“Oh I’ve done my best, I suppose,” Crowley sighed, armed with mock-indifference and a wicked grin. </p><p>“You’re acquainted,” Anathema observed, though Crowley did not miss the way she warily eyed the newcomer. </p><p>“A little. We met in London <em> ages </em>ago, but we did make fast friends.”</p><p>“That we did,” Mr. Furcas nearly grumbled, the sound surprising Crowley, but not nearly as much as the scent of ginger freshening so sharply it almost encouraged him to sneeze. The aromas of the other Alphas grew slightly guarded, and he withheld a scoff. Really, no need to raise hackles. Especially Lord Fell. After so recently embarrassing Crowley in public, he hardly had a reason to act protective now. </p><p>Furcas hardly seemed intimidated, armed with a disregard that Crowley nearly envied. “Unmated?” </p><p>“My, aren’t you perceptive,” Crowley deadpanned with a smirk and a raised brow. It should be obvious to anyone, as he did not have a bond mark on the joint between his neck and shoulder, and even if daywear obscured such a thing, his scent was not mixed with that of an Alpha’s. </p><p>“Courting?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” the Omega said with no shortage of bitterness, his tongue feeling glued to the roof of his mouth.</p><p>“I should find it safe to assume you still have a propensity for mischief.”</p><p>“Good sir, I’ve not the faintest idea what you could possibly be accusing me of,” the Omega hummed gleefully. He became aware the banter was dangerously approaching flirtation, and while such a thing seemed harmless with an Alpha nearing his fifties who had known him when he was nearly still a pup, perhaps a spiteful, petty part of him still hoped to make Aziraphale jealous. Still, he knew where to stop. While he was a greatly experienced flirt, he never <em> went </em>anywhere with it, quite nervous of receiving an Alpha’s affections, in truth. He decided to draw the other Alphas into conversation, “You’re acquainted with Lady Cheshire?”</p><p>“Hardly,” Anathema admitted, “Mr. Furcas was friends with the late Lord Cheshire, and inherited his star maps, astronomy books, and telescope. He’s here to claim them now that he’s returned to England.”</p><p>“Astronomy books? Star maps?” Crowley repeated in delight. Astronomy had always interested him so greatly, but around the age of twelve he’d set fire to his father’s study trying to design new inventions borne of his wild imagination, and after that he’d been banned from books on scientific matters. </p><p>“Indeed. If it pleases the Lord Omega, perhaps we could use them to observe the night sky later.” </p><p>“As a group,” Anathema butted in firmly. </p><p>“Of course,” Furcas agreed, his brows raised in surprise.</p><p>“You’re staying the night?” Crowley asked, a bit confused. There weren’t to be any guests for a few days yet- then again, Lord Fell’s presence was evidence enough Anathema was not stringent on this fact.</p><p>“Yes. Lady Cheshire was kind enough to offer to mail them. I asked if I might stop by and say goodbye to the estate- I spent a great deal of time here studying science with the late Lord Cheshire, you see- and she invited me to stay the night.” </p><p>Mismatched eyes trailed to Anathema, who looked sheepish, “I’m sorry, Crowley, I’d entirely forgotten.” </p><p>“Oh, no matter, the more the merrier, yes?” he asked, ignoring her dubious look. He wasn’t about to turn away an old friend when he was most in need of comfort. Perhaps his warm reception was a bit rude in light of the cold one he’d gifted Lord Fell, but he deserved to experience a little bit of embarrassment after shouting at Crowley in a public park. “And where are you returning from?” </p><p>“Oh- I’ve spent the better part of the last decade designing automobiles in Germany.”</p><p>“Automobiles,” Lord Fell enunciated, sounding none too approving. </p><p>“Really?” Crowley asked, clasping his hands together, heart thrumming in excitement, “What was it like? Have you driven one? Is it exciting? Can they really go faster than horses?”</p><p>Mr. Furcas sounded a low chuckle, “It’s all true. There’s one outside, if you should like to see.” </p><p>“Oh yes, please I would absolutely <em> adore </em>to!” he practically bounced on his feet in excitement, glancing eagerly to Anathema. </p><p>Begrudgingly, the Alphas followed him and Furcas to the automobile, a strange black thing of metal and rubber and glass, nearly bigger than a carriage. He mooned over it as long as he could, removing his gloves and running his fingers over the body of the machine, begging for a ride that Anathema warily insisted should wait until the next day, listening to the Alphas debate the benefits and downfalls of the invention compared to more reliable, tested transportation until he sensed his company getting restless. </p><p>With more appealing company, Crowley was far more eager to socialize, though he kept his patches on. He wished for no more pitying looks from Lord Fell. He wished to conceal the very real, still-smarting pain that remained after the rejection. </p><p>The afternoon passed by rather quickly with tea and conversation in the drawing room. Mr. Furcas made him laugh nearly as much as he had ten years earlier, not having lost a sliver of charm or good humor. He entertained him with his antics until the guest was invited into more complex discussion with the Alphas. Lord Fell generously made a couple windows of opportunity to include Crowley in the highbrow debate, which came as a pleasant, if not perplexing surprise, but the idea of asking the entirety of his company to simplify the topic so he could take part was a bit too embarrassing to resign himself to. Therefore, he kept his contributions quaint and picked up his embroidery, focusing on that as he listened, allowing the intriguing chatter to spin the wheels of his imagination and inspire exciting daydreams of fantastic concepts and adventure. </p><p>Eventually he was called away for more ball-planning business, which ate up the remainder of his afternoon until it was time to change for dinner. His mother had been kind enough to allow him to bring along her Omega-in-Waiting despite his father nearly pitching a fit over it. The Omega’s maid was a snobbish, judgmental woman who turned her nose up at him as if he was something filthy, no doubt seeing him as a dishonorable stain on his family name, but she did set his hair in a remarkable way that he very much liked, and she didn’t second guess his clothing coordination, no matter how risque the result in her opinion.</p><p>He came down to dinner dressed in a deep red, flowing evening jumpsuit that nearly likened a gown, sporting a low cut neckline that framed his sharp collar bones quite beautifully, with black satin gloves that reached his upper arms, a long, layered string of black pearls draped around his neck, and a silver, black-feathered headpiece framing his short, styled locks in a lovely manner. He met Anathema at the top of the stairs, happy to be escorted down them. She got a bit carried away with scenting him, only appropriate due to their familiarity. It was a much needed act of affection. Crowley, by law of nature, ached for physical contact. He was positive that he had been created to be cuddled and kissed and nuzzled and scent-claimed, and he took great reprieve in even the smallest actions that likened it. A happy trill slipped from him, and he allowed her to slip away just before Mr. Furcas joined them in the dining room. </p><p>The group waited for Lord Fell and Agnes before taking their seats. One of Anathema’s footmen pushed in Crowley’s chair for him. This visit was Crowley’s first having made Agnes’s acquaintance, but the presence of a Beta was a great relief that made him feel a bit less at odds with three Alphas, and <em> my </em>but she was a hysterical, livened woman. They shared a great amount of cheeky jesting over mischievous antics, sharing stories that perhaps Crowley would not dare to if each soul of the room had not previously voiced that they were very fond of his devilish nature. It was relaxed. Easy. He shared much laughter with Mr. Furcas, who was proving himself more entertaining and charming by the moment. </p><p>When dinner was done, he and Agnes left the Alphas to talk and went through to the drawing room. At last, they were alone so she might give him the tarot reading she’d promised without any nosy souls observing. Crowley wasn’t sure he believed in the supernatural, but with his love of excitement and his vast imagination, he greatly loved stories of ghosts, monsters, destiny, and fate. It all seemed much more exciting than religion, anyway. </p><p>His reading gave indication of a great struggle that would invoke personal growth, competition in romance, and the potential of a perfect suitor. While the first made him very nervous, and the second seemed mysterious, the third had him over the moon. He couldn’t help but wonder if it might indicate that he might find his True Mate, after all. When the Alphas joined, Agnes cleared the cards, and they shared a secretive grin between them. </p><p>Much to Crowley’s disappointment, the weather thwarted his night of stargazing. His sorrow was short lived, as he found himself in good enough company for the evening to be saved despite the storm. After a bit more conversation was had, the old Beta woman excused herself for bed, and Lord Fell retreated to the library. Anathema, Mr. Furcas, and Crowley shared a very enjoyable game of Bridge, filled with competitive banter and delightful jokes. It was all great fun. </p><p>Until Anathema put very honed focus into one of her turns. Crowley was laughing over one of Mr. Furcas’s humorous anecdotes, and then he felt it. </p><p>A hand stroking up his inner thigh under the table before its fingers gave an indulgent grope.</p><p>By instinct, he shot to his feet in a panic, nearly knocking his chair over. The color drained from his face, his heart hammering in his ears. </p><p><em> Danger! </em>his inner Omega howled. </p><p>He wanted an Alpha he trusted. He longed to be scented and protected by them. He had Anathema, this was true, but as good a head as she held on her shoulders, he knew any admission would result in bloodshed. </p><p>What would possess Mr. Furcas to do such a thing? No Alpha had <em> ever </em> touched him in such an inappropriate way- in fact he’d only held gloved hands with an Alpha before, and he certainly didn’t expect to further such experience in <em> this </em> manner. He’d always imagined any person to touch him in such a way in the future would be his partner- his mate, <em> his Alpha. </em>Suddenly he felt dirty, corrupted, more unfaithful to his future mate than he’d already been. He wanted to cry. </p><p>“Crowley?!” Anathema asked, snapping to a worried, protective demeanor, “What is it, are you alright?”</p><p>“Yes, you look as if you’d seen a ghost,” Furcas noted, sounding so terribly concerned.</p><p>How could he possibly act so innocent? Crowley could not even cede his gaze to this man, terrified of exposure for what he’d just suffered, afraid of violent conflict between Alphas. </p><p>“I- you must excuse me,” he choked out, thanking God, if there was one, that his patches masked his fear and distress, “I’m not- I’m not well. I think I ought to lie down.” </p><p>Both Alphas shot to their feet as he rushed to the room, taking care not to run. An Omega running from an Alpha meant triggering a chase instinct, and the last thing he desired was to be touched again. </p><p>He made it to the top of the grand staircase before slumping against a wall and ripping the elaborate headpiece off his head to card his fingers through his hair. If only he could get to his den, crawl into his makeshift nest, he could inhale the scents of himself and his family pack and feel <em> safe, </em> but his legs felt too weak to cooperate. Oh, if his father or sister heard of this, Mr. Furcas would be <em> gutted </em>alive. There had to be some sort of mistake. Some misunderstanding- but how could there be? They were not mated. They weren’t even courting. Crowley would never entertain courtship with someone as old as his Apa, or someone his sister held a strong contempt for.</p><p>“My, excited, are we?” </p><p>Crowley jumped at the voice, beginning to tremble as he raised his head to find Mr. Furcas in front of him. </p><p>“I beg your pardon?” he gasped when he found his voice, feeling as if he’d made a dreadful mistake in isolating himself as the Alpha strided towards him. The scent of ginger burnt his nostrils, flourishing with sharp, heavy arousal, and Crowley cowered back against the wall. </p><p>“I knew you wanted to get alone with me, but I didn’t think you’d be so eager as to run off so suddenly.”</p><p>“No- no you misunderstand,” Crowley insisted, “We should <em> not </em>be alone together. I left because I wanted to be by myself! You’ve the wrong idea!”</p><p>“Oh, hush, Omega. This has been a fun game of cat and mouse, but we’re alone now, no need to pretend. I’ve heard the rumors about you, refusing courtships so you can play around with whatever Alpha strikes your fancy. So the question is- what game shall we play next?”</p><p>Crowley scoffed, face warping into a disgusted snarl and a growl starting up in his chest that was soft, but not for lack of trying to be menacing, “You have heard very wrongly sir! Now please kindly leave me be or- or I’ll <em> howl!”  </em></p><p>“Oh don’t be silly, Anthony. No one would believe you. It’s very well known that you’re a zealous little bitch-” he purred, a predatory growl rumbling from his chest. </p><p>The second he grasped Crowley’s wrist, it all went black, Crowley’s mind and body resorting straight to a deep, instinctual self-defense. </p><p>“Don’t TOUCH ME!” Crowley snarled, lashing out and gouging deep claw marks into the side of his attacker’s face. </p><p>Of all the reckless things he’d ever done in his life, this by far promised the most dangerous possible consequences.</p><p>He barked a loud, high-pitched yelp as he felt his body slammed against the wall. A hand curled around his throat, sharp claws digging into his flesh. Massive canines were bared as the Alpha snarled into his face, his growl so loud, so <em> menacing </em>Crowley could do nothing but sound a positively pitiful whimper, limbs failing him and falling slack as he awaited the mauling that was surely coming to him.  </p><p>He flinched back at the feeling of scratches on his neck, squeezing his eyes closed tight. Then the pressure was gone. Crowley collapsed to the floor. When he opened his eyes again, he smelled the burning, horrific scent of two Alphas dueling to win dominance. Lord Fell gained the upper hand with an impressive ease, slamming Mr. Furcas to the ground. Crowley did his best to scramble backwards, away from the danger, but his limbs were trembling with such a viciousness they seemed capable of very little else. At last, Lord Fell had his opponent pinned, and snarled in his face to threaten him into submission, long canines bared in a display so terrifying Crowley never might have imagined him capable of it. Then again, angels were fearsome creatures in the bible, weren’t they? Bearing a thousand eyes and rings of roaring fire. He felt as if he saw it now. Lord Fell was growling, too, and the growl was a low, rumbling snarl of spring-coiled menace, the sort of growl that starts at the back of one throat and ends up in someone else’s. Then their eyes met. </p><p>It was all so fast, and Crowley was so afraid that he hardly registered it, hand clasped over the- by someone’s good grace- <em> faint </em> scratches on his throat. When he came to his senses again, he was being led gingerly down the hallway by Lord Fell, and upon looking over his shoulder, he saw Anathema standing Mr. Furcas down. She wasn’t shouting, no- she was <em> whispering </em>, and Crowley had the satisfaction of knowing that whatever she was saying inspired clear terror in his attacker’s face. </p><p>He turned forward quickly, feeling himself tremble like a dead leaf in the Autumn wind. Mismatched eyes flickered downwards to find his shaking hand stained and dripping with blood, the fingertips of his satin gloves ripped open by his claws. It took a moment to realize it was Mr. Furcas's blood. His stomach churned. He tasted bile. The Omega within him crumbled in despair at having had to employ violence, no matter how deserving the target. His limbs felt stiff. He wasn’t fully aware of how they were functioning, but so long as he focused on following the strong, albeit burning, scent of tea and parchment and leather, he found himself able to move forward. Lord Fell was taking great care not to touch him, lest he frighten him any further, but an extended arm hovered behind Crowley's back in a shielding position. He was speaking low, calming reassurances. His fine, antiquated dinner jacket was torn and his hair wild, but his eyes were an ocean of incredible calm. His growl was still present, a protective thing, but it was much softer, just for Crowley, that he might know he was safe.</p><p>And to his own surprise, he felt as much. His brain was in too much of a panic to comprehend the words pouring from the Alpha’s mouth, but the voice was so soothing, so comforting. In a moment of weakness, he wanted to throw himself into Lord Fell’s strong arms, to press against the softly padded expanse of his body, to nuzzle under his jaw and smear the oil of his scent glands over every inch of his own face, to be held fast in an unyielding embrace. He wondered how warm he might be. He wondered if he would chase away the shivering that plagued him so. </p><p>Before he could, they arrived at the door to his den. </p><p>“Oh you poor dear,” Lord Fell tutted, so tenderly it made tears spring to Crowley’s eyes, “Shall I call the doctor?”</p><p>“No- no, thank you,” Crowley whimpered, cringing at the ruinous sound of his own voice. Only then did he become aware how close he was to unraveling, body trembling with a frightful might and a lump forming in his throat, and the last thing he desired was to embarrass himself any further in Lord Fell’s company. “I think I- I just need to be alone. To feel safe in my nest.” </p><p>The Alpha nodded, beautiful stormy eyes wrought with sympathy and concern. </p><p>“Of course,” he said quietly, backing away. A pause. “I’m so sorry, dear boy, that such terrible rumors might ever be lodged against you. That you might suffer their effects.” </p><p>Then it came together, like stars catching into one another’s orbit, colliding in an awesome act of destruction.</p><p>Lord Fell had liked him, cared for him, considered him for courtship, even. He remembered the day in the park, watching the light in his eyes extinguish, so rapidly changing into cold accusation, when he fixed him with that sudden look. He remembered accepting a flower from an Alpha vendor the moment before. </p><p>He felt his heart shatter like glass in his chest, the shards cutting and gouging everything in their path as they fell apart. He was rendered open and gutted.</p><p>“It seems a rumor that Alphas who I trust with my respect and admiration are eager to believe,” he managed out, the emotion pouring out as loudly as the words themselves. His face twisted as he looked at Lord Fell, who gazed back with wide eyes. </p><p>“Perhaps I should learn to grow accustomed to the disappointment.” </p><p>He barely had time to glimpse Lord Fell’s angelic features crumpling at the accusation, to smell his scent grow heavy and despairing, or to witness his mouth open to eagerly argue before he twisted the doorknob to his room, sliding in and slamming the door shut behind him. </p><p>His back thudded against it, and at last, his bloodied gloves and patches were ripped away, he stumbled forward, collapsed into his nest, and wrapped himself in the scents he loved most, pretending his family was holding him fast. He wanted his Ama. He wanted his sister. While he ached for his Apa’s strong, overpowering, steady scent of spices, he wondered whether he would be understanding or if he might find this all to be his son’s fault. Nothing he hadn’t asked for with his wild antics and haphazard disregard for social decorum in favor of friendliness.</p><p>Why couldn’t he be different? Why couldn’t he be content with a quiet, dull, oppressive life, like every other Omega seemed to have such ease with?</p><p>No. That wasn’t right. Those weren’t the proper questions. </p><p>Why couldn’t he be accepted for who he was? That was it. Why couldn’t he be understood? Why couldn’t he be loved and wanted as the peculiar, life-loving creature he found happiness in being? </p><p>Crowley buried his nose against the stuffed puppy dog his Ama had made for him when he was a child, and he wept.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry i'M SORRY but also I'd like to think Crowley's self-sufficient enough that he would have put up a hell of a fight even if Aziraphale hadn't stepped in.</p><p>That said, BAMF Aziraphale is my weakness. Also I feel like I have a skill for writing really sleazy assholes idk wtf that says about me other than that I have suffered irl at the hands of some really sleazy assholes who have now wormed their way into my fics as antagonists 🤔 Also ngl, I've been in love with the canon GOmens line "and the growl was a low, rumbling snarl of spring-coiled menace, the sort of growl that starts at the back of one throat and ends up in someone else’s." and I may have been very eager to have an excuse to put it into a fic!!!</p><p>Also in case it isn't clear Crowley's not planning this ball to try to force Ana into marriage (that'd be a bit "kettle meet pot"), he's just trying to gas her up to the English and maybe help her get laid like the killer wingman he is. </p><p>Next week's chapter is the last one I have queued up (though chapter 6 is in progress) and it is my FAVORITE chapter so far so please sit tight~ soothing angst with fluff is my favorite thing in the world. </p><p>Chapter count is very, very likely to end up closer to 20 because I can't be concise to save my fucking life. Thank you for reading, commenting, and generally just being such wonderful readers and people!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To suggest Aziraphale Fell felt remorse for ever wishing to witness Lord Anthony Crowley’s vulnerability would be an atrocious understatement. Of course, he could not design fate, yet he felt somehow responsible for the attack that befell him, for the emotional pain that seemed to cut him so much deeper than the physical elements had. He’d been en route back from the water closet when he heard the beginning of Crowley and Mr. Furcas’s discussion at the top of the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All night he had been sure Crowley had been flirting, simply vying for and soaking up all the attention that could be spared. It had been difficult to think otherwise, his scent obscured as it was by patches. His discovery that the Omega had simply been hosting his personal brand of friendliness had come in the worst way he could have hoped for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment he’d heard Crowley cry for the Alpha to back away from him, an animal was uncaged in his chest, possessing him, taking over each one of his faculties. It hadn’t been until he was about to sink his teeth into the other Alpha’s throat that he’d regained his senses. Never before had he felt such wrath. Never before had he felt such a strong, innate, instinctual drive to </span>
  <em>
    <span>protect, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and had he not raised his eyes and seen the terror in the poor Omega’s, he might have called himself a murderer a moment later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still didn’t know if Crowley was sweet or if he was soft, but he knew he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>person. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was no wicked temper who took joy from playing with an Alpha’s feelings. He was a living, feeling man, filled with life and hopes and fears. Talents and flaws. Dreams and nightmares. Aziraphale had reduced him to something so much less. A silly storybook villain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley had seen that, of course, Aziraphale should have expected he would, being as clever as he was. But then, with Aziraphale entirely at fault, he’d misunderstood that vision for something much more perverse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had never thought Crowley was the type of Omega to sneak around with Alphas, carrying out scandalous acts; he simply thought he enjoyed a bit of the chase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, with Mr. Furcas long since turned out and chased away, he set out to lodge his apology. That was, if Crowley was even amenable to hearing it. There was a great chance he would not be, and Aziraphale could hardly cast any blame on him for that. The Alpha was disappointed to find the Omega he sought to be missing from breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume Crow- Lord Anthony has asked to take breakfast in his den?” he asked quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema shared a long, concerned look with him, but shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. He’s handling it how he always does, he’s wandered off into the woods, running from facing his problems, daydreaming it all away.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he alright? Is he harmed?” he asked, heart banging away hard in his chest in anticipation of the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing’s so bruised as his ego. I finally coaxed him out of his den first thing this morning to see the doctor. Just some minors scrapes and bruises. He was instructed to stay in his nest and rest, but of course he doesn’t take kindly to being told what to do. That silly Omega thrives off rebellion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked down at the plate he’d stacked full of food, grimacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel ever so terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” she sounded an exasperated laugh, her scent weighted with heartfelt emotion that smelled something like relief and heartache all at once, “Aziraphale, I can’t- I can’t thank you enough for protecting him. I know he’s not a pack member of yours-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish he was,” Aziraphale admitted, “and he might have been. I fear it’s a bit too late for all that now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha across him tilted her head, fixing him with a sympathetic look. Her scent was so mellow, at present. So comforting. Still, he ached to be soothed by an Omega. He missed his Ama and his scent of fresh linen and green tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s for Crowley to decide.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments of silence were shared between them. He frowned, finding himself void of an appetite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look here,” Anathema sighed, “I don’t think it’s likely you’ll succeed in persuading him to come back to reality, but why don’t you go out there and meet him in his little fantasyland? I think you’d be surprised how much he’d enjoy your company, and perhaps it’d be a good chance for you to apologize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, scrutinizing his cousin and gathering that she was truly quite serious about the matter. She had a much better sense for Crowley’s character than he did, so he decided perhaps it was best to believe her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he said, “if you don’t mind, I think I should set out now. I don’t find I have much of an appetite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tentative smile quirked at her lips, “Words I never thought I’d hear from your lips. That said, I have a feeling you should bring biscuits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Biscuits?” he asked, dubiously. He was well aware of his friend’s odd premonitions and even more so of their accuracy, but biscuits seemed to be of menial importance. “That’s going to cheer Crowley up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, they’re not for him, he prefers scones, anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Aziraphale set out, supplied with a basketful of biscuits and scones and unsure exactly what he was looking for. It was a bit of a lousy September morning in Cheshire, with an overcast sky. The ground was damp after a night of rain, the blanket of red and orange leaves over the frostbitten ground too wet to crunch underfoot. There was a mild wind, but a surprising warmth clung to the air before the promise of Winter inevitably chased it out. The scent of Autumn reminded him so deeply of Raphael, and he entered something of a solemn trance as he wandered through the trail of the forest on the grounds of Anathema’s estate. His heart ached, scarcely held together from the damage of years passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A yelp- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>yelp- was all that was needed to shake him from his preoccupations, and not a moment later he was bounding through the forest. The panic subsided as he heard the playful howls and growls of pups, and he stumbled upon a creek, finding a tidy row of children’s shoes lined up beside a grown Omega’s more fashionable pair. Beside the footwear resided a pile of jackets, gloves, and socks. Crowley’s exquisite hat topped the heap off. Aziraphale rounded the corner, finding four pups tacking Crowley in the water, giggling giddily amongst themselves. A small dog ran along the shore, yapping with excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord Omega’s trousers were rolled to his knees, his blouse drenched and clinging to his form, teasing a hint of the tan flesh beneath it, and he ran barefoot through the shallow running water alongside the pups. His hair was wet, pushed carelessly out of his face, and mud was streaked across his cheek and chest. He looked wild. He looked like he belonged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded performative yelps and baying, playing along with the mock siege and pulling the pups along for the ride as he stumbled back into the water. They flailed atop him, a heap of flailing limbs, and he laughed alongside them, making a playful attempt at growling as he snatched after them and forced them victim to little nuzzles and scenting that they joyfully shrieked through before slipping from his grasp. The lot of them were drenched. Judging by their excited shouting about loading up the canons with ridiculous accents and the eager swinging of sticks, they were playing pirates, and Crowley was the sea monster threatening to crash their ship to pieces and consume them whole. He appeared tremendously devoted to his part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was by and far the most precious thing Aziraphale had ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the pups, a dark-skinned little girl, sat up at once, sniffing the air and turning to meet Aziraphale’s gaze, she hopped to her feet, skipping through the water and snatching up a stick to point accusingly at the Alpha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Argh! There be a sailor on the horizon!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other pups halted their siege on Crowley, and Aziraphale found himself fixed to place by four sets of eyes. It wasn’t until the fifth set met him- the mismatched pair- that his heart ached. Crowley’s face fell when he caught Aziraphale’s eye, his shoulders growing tense. The joy of puplike play slipped straight out of him. Aziraphale had to battle every instinct to rush forward and soothe him, to reassure him that he was accepted. That he was safe. That by no means did he have to stop playing on the Alpha’s account.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy with a mop of golden curls hopped forth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are ye friend or are ye foe?” he questioned, having quite the imposing energy for what Aziraphale assumed to be a pup of the age of eight or nine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two remaining boys rushed forward to join the ranks, but one yelped in fright, jumping back and pointing at the water, “Ahh! A snake! Kill it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little pack members all reached for sticks and rocks at once, but Crowley, with his long, slender legs, was much faster. He rushed forth, crouching down to form a human shield between the pups and the snake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no no no!” he rushed out, reaching his hands down into the water and gently chiding, “How would you lot like a giant coming along and chucking boulders at you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this question, makeshift weapons were lowered, questioning looks exchanged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blech! You’re touching it!” a bespectacled boy cried out, “Why would you do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because he’s not a water snake, he’s a garden snake, see? You can tell by the pattern, he must’ve fallen into the creek,” Crowley sighed, “Okay, I’ve got him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He delivered a stern look up at the pups, but a glimmer of devilish fondness lay beneath it. “Would you like to see? No screaming or smacking him out of my hands. He’s much more scared of you than you are of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why isn’t he moving? Is he dead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but he might have died if you hadn’t seen him. Well done, Wensleydale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would he die?” a dirt-smeared boy with dark hair questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snakes are cold-blooded. They can’t make their own warmth like us. They reflect the temperature around them. No doubt the cold water might have frozen this wee fellow to death. Do you want to help me warm him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale stood stock still, marveling at the Lord Omega he had thought to be so proud, cold, and pompous, now crouched down, shoeless, in the muddy water, protecting serpents, caring for, teaching, and playing with a pup pack that had he’d only just stumbled across as if they were his own. He was so gentle, talking with them. So careful as he wound the little snake in his fingers. His eyes were as warm as the honey in his scent as he fixed the little strangers with loving eyes and reminded them to be kind to the critter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet. Soft. Vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha feared that if he moved, he might break the fragile scene, and how tragic it would be to lose such a precious thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What should we call him?” Wensleydale asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something good and strong, to get him through the winter,” the girl suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have an idea. I say we name him after his rescuer,” the golden-haired boy said, judging by his confidence, he was the leader of the little pack. He turned his eyes at Crowley, “What’s your name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega gave a fond, playful snort, “Really, Adam? What? Is it that forgettable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naw, ‘s’just that ‘Crowley’s your surname, innit? Can’t properly name ‘im after you like that! What’s your </span>
  <em>
    <span>first </span>
  </em>
  <span>name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anthony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, Anthony Jr., then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With resounding confidence, the pack agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After moments of warm hands working together to warm the little serpent, Crowley waded to the the edge of the creek and padded through the damp earth to crouch down and release him into the woods. Adam warned his dog to stay away from the creature, and it appeared his dog was very keen to listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buh-bye, wee me,” Crowley called cheerfully, watching the snake slither away. The pups called after as well with energetic farewells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With their latest distraction taken care of, their attention turned to Aziraphale in tandem yet again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” asked Adam, “You haven’t answered my question! Are you after our treasure?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t recall the snake suffering such inquisition,” Aziraphale huffed in mock aggrievement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That earned a hesitant and slightly shy, but genuine little grin from Crowley. “Well. To be fair, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>try to kill him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judging by the pups’ reactions, this might have been assumed to be new information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We almost killed Anthony Jr!” the mud-covered boy cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My god. We could have become monsters just then, actually… ,” Wensleydale murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A solemn moment of reflection passed over the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er- I have biscuits?” Aziraphale offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A successful distraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all lunged forth, wading around him, and he laughed, opening the basket he’d been sent with and allowing the treats to be distributed. Introductions were exchanged as, before taking a bite, Adam loudly remembered he wasn’t meant to take things from strangers. After Aziraphale shared his name, the little pack leader gave the all-clear, and his packmates eagerly dug into the goodies. Crowley drew near, idling as he lifted his knee to draw patterns on the surface of the water with his toe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s scones, too,” the Alpha said, struggling to keep his breath even as the stunning eyes turned to him. The wet fabric clung to Crowley, giving away every curve of his slender, delicate form, and Aziraphale was quite sure, in that moment, he’d never desired anyone more. Luckily, a rambunctious pack of pups served as a rather perfect distraction for thoughts of that sort. Crowley joined them at last, sitting on the edge of the creek and enjoying his scones, fond eyes tracking the children’s sporadic turns of conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley fussed over Brian’s filthy hands and face, patting over himself and frowning when he failed to find the item he sought. Aziraphale pulled his blue handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to Crowley, who gave him a timid, but grateful smile, eyes softer than before. Evidently, the gesture meant something very grand to him. Crowley took the soft fabric, and managed to clean Brian’s scrunched up face before Dog snatched the handkerchief from his hands. By the time the group wrestled it back, it was covered in tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley was apologetic, shoving it into his pocket and insisting he would replace it, but Aziraphale insisted it was fine- just a silly, disposable little thing, anyway. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been one of his favorite handkerchiefs, but he found this pointless to share should it distress the Omega further. Conversation quickly resumed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be a knight some day,” Adam declared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Crowley inquired with a grin, “Off to go on grand adventures and battle dragons?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naw,” he shrugged, taking another massive bite of biscuit and speaking with his mouthful, “After meetin’ Anthony Jr., I think maybe killin’ monsters might be evil. I just want a horse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, you don’t need to be a knight to have a horse,” Wensleydale pointed out, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better be an Alpha then, Omegas don’t can’t ride horses,” Brian supplied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pepper huffed, “That’s not true at all! Omegas can do whatever Alphas do!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not ride horses,” Brian argued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I ride horses,” Crowley supplied matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Brian huffed, “I bet you’re not as good at riding as an Alpha.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well he can certainly ride circles around me,” Aziraphale contributed. Crowley didn’t look at him as he picked apart his scone, but a sly, barely perceptible grin graced his lips. It warmed and disarmed Aziraphale more than any alcohol he’d ever had, and he decided, from this point on, he would make Crowley smile as much as possible if he had a say in it at all. He’d chase away the bad things. Ban anything that saddened him. He found an instinct crying out within him, louder than any urge to scent or stronger than any desire to mark in mating, to simply make the Omega- </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>Omega only- the happiest he possibly could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a horse?” Wensleydale asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Aziraphale asked, heat pooling to his face as he realized he’d been staring at Crowley. Judging by the light pink hue dusted beneath his freckles, the fact wasn’t lost on the Omega, either. The Alpha was pleased to find the scent of herbs and honey very stable. Warm and content. “Yes, I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you do?” Piper asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a Viscount.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are Adam, just be one of those,” Brian supplied, much to the adults’ shared entertainment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll be a cowboy instead. They ‘ave horses too and it sounds like loads more fun.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale couldn’t argue with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your horse’s name?” Adam asked, dangling a bit of biscuit over his dog so he danced on his hind legs before relenting the bit of confectionary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Llamrei,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“King Arthur’s horse?” Crowley asked quietly, speaking up for the first time in a good while. Aziraphale suppressed the pleased, grumbling growl that attempted to work up in his chest at the Omega’s interest and contribution. Oh dear, just as he crawled out of the pit, he was sliding back in, faster and deeper than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s King Arthur?” Adam asked. Both adults started at the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A legend,” Aziraphale answered, “One I begged my Ama to tell me tales of growing up. He ruled a kingdom called Camelot with the help of a wizard named Merlin. He gathered and initiated the Knights of the Round Table, too, and they went on all sorts of miraculous adventures.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know the stories? Can you tell us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> know a few, but they might be a tad long…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pups erupted into a cacophony of pleading, folding their hands together and begging. Aziraphale pretended to ponder it further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>c’mon,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley schmoozed, a coy grin playing at his lips, “Surely you can’t say no to </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale could, really. While this was a good little pack, he didn’t find himself particularly weak for pups. Crowley, however, he found he had a much more difficult time refusing. The fact blended well with his newfound mission of keeping him happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I suppose we could fit in a couple tales before luncheon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cheers were thrown up all around, and the children formed a little semi-circle around him. Aziraphale rested on the damp earth in front of them, figuring he might as well settle in, however filthy the bank of the creek was. He took a moment to gather the characters, the setting, the world, and with a few deep breaths, he was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And not but a moment later, they all were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale loved literature yes, but moreso, he loved lore. He loved grand tales and heartfelt stories. He loved the act of storytelling, and the power it had to bring people together. He felt comfortable and happy, deep within the role of narration. He painted the pictures with his gestures, his tone, the voices he gave to different characters, and much to his delight, Crowley gradually scooted closer. By the end of the story, he was as rapt as the children, beautiful mismatched eyes glazed over and faraway, sharing the vision of Camelot they all saw so clearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale fell into a greater commitment than he originally intended, and by the time the first tale had been told, the mouths of all in the semicircle were hanging ajar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That. Was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wicked!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Adam declared, hopping to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the pups joined soon after, in an uproar of overlapping, excited claims of different characters and mock battles re-enacting the story. They all fell silent, heads perking to the distance as a bell rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That’s Ama, callin’ me in. You lot want some sandwiches?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pack was in full agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna come ‘Zira? Crowley?” Adam asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley laughed, “I think we’ll refrain from giving your poor Ama a heart attack, but it’s a very sweet offer and I thank you very kindly, little sir. Now, you pups pop along.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goodbyes were shared, and if Aziraphale wasn’t mistaken, he smelled Crowley’s scent grow a bit damp as they watched the departure. He slipped on his coat before the Alpha could offer to hold it for him, picking his shoes up in a hand. Aziraphale handed him his extravagant wide-brimmed hat, and he sounded a quiet thanks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a very good storyteller,” Crowley remarked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” he insisted modestly, sounding a quiet laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega frowned, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not nothing. It’s something. You made that story real.” A blush crept through his handsome features, and he ducked his head, mumbling, “You know- for them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt his heart squeeze. Suddenly, he wondered how he could have ever missed such an apparent sweetness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned towards the house, and began their trek together. Their solitude brought forth a myriad of emotions from Crowley’s scent, such a broad range that Aziraphale found it a challenge to gather all of them. Sadness. Anxiety. Pain. But above it all, unmistakably, the growing sweetness of honey:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fondness. Admiration. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Attraction. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale listened to the calls of the birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind. Suddenly, the scent of Autumn didn’t affect him so much. How could it possibly, when he was blessed to enjoy an entire garden of herbs wafting beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I owe you my thanks, Lord Fell,” Crowley mumbled after a time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked at him at last, finding he surely likened some beautiful woodland creature of lore. A forest nymph, perhaps. Wild and wet and barefoot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega’s cheeks darkened, and he averted the Lord Alpha’s gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for the scones, I mean, though I am grateful for them but-,” he sighed, looking a bit sad. A moment of silence passed. Crowley suddenly attained that uncharacteristic, cordial distance that suited him so ill in Aziraphale’s eyes. It likened mismatched parts, but not harmonious like his eyes- instead mashed to fit where they didn’t belong. It was a cruel disgrace to the wild imagery he hosted now. All at once, Aziraphale realized it was a defence, a form of protecting not his pride, as he originally suspected, but his soft spots. His heart. How very wrong he’d had it. “-but for saving my life. I find it very admirable that despite your poor opinion of me, you risked yourself in coming to my defense.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my dear boy,” Aziraphale sighed, “I know such a sentiment must be so frustrating to hear from me, as it is not at all reflective of my behavior, but I do not have a poor opinion of you in the least. In fact, I find my opinion of you to be improving at an alarming rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley stopped in his stride, standing very still. Distress washed forth from his scent in the way of burning herbs, indicative, much to Aziraphale’s despair, that he might begin crying, and when the Alpha turned, gazing into the Omega’s downcast eyes, he did find wetness there. The composed shield of stiff propriety shattered and fell to pieces between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- you must understand how it confuses me when you say such things,” he said, “and I know- I know you’re not cruel. I know you’re a kind man. So you must </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>how greatly your ever-changing disposition towards me- it- it </span>
  <em>
    <span>vexes </span>
  </em>
  <span>me so terribly. What’s even more troubling is that unlike such instances of the past, I can’t seem to move past it or brush it to the side. I can’t forget it. I confess I find myself caring very deeply, indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale ached. Ached with an innate need to hold him, care for him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>soothe </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. He stepped closer, keeping his scent as stable as possible, casting it out as a lifeline, should Crowley need it. It burst the warmth only known as hope through his chest when the Omega inched closer, closed his eyes, inhaled his scent deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do- I know. And you are correct, by rule I am not cruel, yet I have treated you most abominably. I wish to give you an overdue apology- no, not just that. I wish to offer an explanation, and should you find it subpar- should you find me weak, and lacking in backbone, I shall understand if you wish for me to depart today, and leave you alone forever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley rushed forth as if to say something, but bit his words, swallowing them down as his expression threatened to crack, to disintegrate into tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Aziraphale begged, voice hovering scarcely above a whisper, “I take no joy in toying with the emotions of a respectable Lord Omega such as yourself, Crowley. You must believe me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mismatched eyes searched into his own stormy blue so deeply, he was certain Crowley saw him. That he looked into the windows of his soul and saw the very stuff he was made of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do believe you,” he said after a time, fixing Aziraphale with an expression of such </span>
  <em>
    <span>yearning </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it broke his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale took a deep breath. He did not crack open his heart and share its contents with just anyone, but Crowley deserved it. He deserved the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was like there was an invisible force attaching them, urging Aziraphale to draw nearer and nearer. He’d never felt such an undying allegiance to any person after such a short acquaintanceship, but with Crowley it felt like- like nature, running its course. As deep the instinct ran for his lungs to ache for air, his heart ached to protect Crowley, to keep him happy and satisfied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair geared towards the garden in silence, turning about the shrubbery and flowers until they reached a wrought iron bench. Crowley set his shoes next to the bench and sat. Aziraphale remained at an anxious stance, worrying his hands together as he got the story together in his head. This was no exciting tale. It was a tragedy. His tragedy. The tale of an old fool. If he was not duty-bound to share it with this darling Omega, he would happily go the rest of his life never uttering a word of it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do wish you would sit, elsewise if you carry on hosting such a disposition I’ll get it in my head your preparing to confess to murder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Serial </span>
  </em>
  <span>murder, by your manner of pacing,” Crowley attempted to mildly tease, eyes cast down at where he twisted his gloves in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale frowned in confusion before realizing he was both pacing, as Crowley noted, and radiating a scent of distress. It would not be out of order for such behavior from an Alpha to make an Omega whom they were alone with impeccably nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he agreed, ducking his head. He took a seat beside Crowley, taking care to leave room between them, and fixed his gaze downward at his worrying hands. “My story contains some aspects that might be impolite to mention in the presence of Omega, but you are a grown man with your faculties fully intact. I know how you loathe censorship. You deserve the entirety of the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate that,” Crowley mumbled quietly, rubbing his fingers over the material of his gloves. His scent was nervous, slightly singed, but fresh and strong, indicating his receptiveness. Aziraphale felt most grateful for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, I’m a bit older than you. I’ve seen thirty six years, and in that time, I have had engagements with two separate Omegas. The first was when I was nineteen. We were very young, and perhaps a bit foolish. We’d grown up together, formed a close bond. It seemed sensible to promise ourselves to each other. Of course now I know that forming a marriage pact based on the aspect of safety alone is cheating both parties of a mate that they might be bonded to for life. After it fell through, I focused on my education. Literature has always been the great love of my life, and I confess I found it soothing that it was one that could not scorn me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The second Omega I met at the thirtieth birthday celebration that Ama threw for me. I fell deeply in love. We took things slowly, as I was frightened of facing the potential pain of losing a mate yet again. After half a year, we too formed an engagement. As you see, it did not come to fruition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… confess that after the Omega price was paid and the wedding date planned in each respective courtship, I-,” he blushed, feeling abominable for addressing this topic with an unmated Omega. It was of the utmost importance to continue reminding himself that Crowley had a right to the entire tale of his unfortunate past in romance, “I… that is I- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>tended </span>
  </em>
  <span>to them in their- their moments of need, as is appropriate in such circumstances after such commitments have been made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furrowing of red brows suggested Crowley did not fully grasp the concept, and with a careful push that soothed Aziraphale greatly in its gentleness, he murmured, “I’m not sure I understand your meaning, Lord Fell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Aziraphale sighed, cheeks burning, he couldn’t stand to look at Crowley, “I do hope you’ll forgive my candor. In both these situations, it appeared to be fate’s design that we should be bonded. With that in mind, I… well, with the consent of their parents, I spent their heats with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Crowley gasped, a furious flush flooding to his features as he shyly ducked his head. The gloves were twisted in his hand, and he cleared his throat, shoulders slumping in on himself. “I… well, I should find it safe to assume that the failure of the engagements to come to fruition was not of your choosing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a very delicate, diplomatic phrasing of the question at hand. While it was true that after an engagement was sanctioned by both families and a wedding date set, an Alpha was permitted to tend to their Omega’s heats so long as they did not bond mark them, any attempt on the Alpha’s part to terminate the engagement thereafter should result in being shunned by polite society and painted as the very image of perversion. Aziraphale could not imagine being capable of such cruelty as jilting an Omega whom an Alpha had sworn to love and protect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should indeed have confidence in the safety of that assumption,” Aziraphale said quietly, “You see, in both cases I was so certain I’d found the Omega I should be bound to for life. In the first instance, his Alpha parent struck out on a business deal, finding her family in a great deal of trouble. As part of a settlement to save herself, she… she contracted the marriage and mating of her son to the other party.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How absolutely deplorable!” Crowley cried, his outrage on both the Omega and Aziraphale’s behalf a very sweet sentiment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so, but while the pain of it felt a herald to Armageddon, it was nothing to the circumstances that ended my second engagement a decade later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha gave him a sad smile that fell short, and descended into silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He so vividly remembered his second engagement. Raphael. He remembered how he’d loved him. The troves of poetry he’d written him. He remembered the feeling of holding him in his arms, the scent of Autumn, swirling around him and holding him tight. Much like now. He pulled off his gloves, scrubbing his face with a hand and leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees. Recalling such a thing brought back all the pain with it. The betrayal. The sensation of having nothing to wake up for, his future ripped from his hands as his heart had been from his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gentle touch to his elbow brought him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he might have cried from the generosity. Here he was attempting to provide the context for wronging Lord Anthony so despicably, and he received a selfless offer that he should abandon the entire apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I- I really do,” he insisted, voice hoarse with emotion. Were it any other Omega, he would feel shame for the tears springing to his eyes, but Crowley didn’t care about propriety. He didn’t care about the expectations that came along with secondary gender. For once, Aziraphale didn’t feel pressured to be the emotionally hardy, distant Alpha society expected him to be. He didn’t feel the need to posture or pretend. He felt remarkably safe. He felt accepted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all this before a glove was gently tugged from his fingers. He turned to Crowley, finding the Omega’s eyes soft- wide and wet. The yearning behind it bombarded Aziraphale. His scent was distressed, perhaps with empathy, but more than that, Aziraphale felt an inherent knowledge that what Crowley truly ached over was the inability to soothe him properly. His Omega instincts were battling with his respect of appropriate boundaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Anthony lifted the item and pulled down the shirt collar snug around his neck, silently rubbing the glove against the dark patch of his scent gland with a thorough attentiveness. When he placed it back on Aziraphale’s knee, the Alpha lodged a watery smile against him. The small act of affection and sympathy pushed the shoddy structure of the dam he’d built, and tears spilled over. A look of gentle understanding was shared between them, the most precious and impactful exchange Aziraphale was sure he’d ever had in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the glove to his face, inhaling deeply, and immediately, his heart unclenched. It opened, albeit painfully, and in the midst of lovely lavender and herbs, the pain of Autumn leaves was forgotten behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It went far to fortify his spirits, and soon he felt strong enough to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He- my Omega, his grandfather got sick, and he had to travel to Germany. Our wedding was postponed. My Ama attempted to reschedule, but was met with vague pacifications that were not true answers. Then I got a letter, saying…,” he sighed, wiping the tears from his face, “That he had spent his latest heat with another Alpha, and he would be marrying him instead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s face paled with shock, mouth falling open. Aziraphale felt him move closer, their legs very nearly brushing, his hand rested in the crook of the Alpha’s arm. A reverent silence was shared between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Aziraphale felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a way he could not explain, tilting his head and smelling the sweet honeyed scent straight from the source. It hurt, of course it did, but for once, it was not so sharp. He did not feel devastated. He did not feel alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that realization, he nearly submitted to tears all over again. What a precious thing, companionship. In this sterile, distant society, Aziraphale could not recall the last time he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt the cold clutches of complete and utter aloneness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like taking a gasp for air, only having just realized he’d been suffocating for years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw him,” Crowley said after a time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale turned his stormy eyes at the Omega, brows knitting together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It felt as if the world came to a halt. I smelled him- the fresh scent of Autumn leaves and cut apples. It had been so long. I wondered if it had been my imagination. I turned, and I caught Raphael- that is, Mr. Fernsby’s eyes. Then he disappeared into the crowd. Nothing happened, not really, but it left me feeling as if- as if everything had changed so terribly much,” he recounted, eyes far away until he blinked himself back to the present, “How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flush colored the Omega’s somber expression, and he ducked his head, mismatched eyes shyly meeting Aziraphale’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I found you in London, you were hurting just like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How very perceptive, this man. Aziraphale knew he was clever. Now he was learning so quickly that he was caring and considerate in equal measure. He ceded a nod. To his surprise, the only pain that plagued him now was the knowledge that he had hurt the sweet Omega who was comforting him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I confess, I was filled with paranoia. When you took that flower from that Alpha, the protective part of my mind ignored the truth I knew in my heart. Overpowered it. I did paint you in the cruel light of toying with Alphas for your own pleasure but- but Crowley, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe me,” he begged, lodging his wet eyes at Crowley, renewed with emotion and earnestness of the greatest measure, “I never assumed anything as deplorable as what Mr. Furcas had the audacity to suggest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you,” Crowley said so quickly, so faithfully it warmed his wounded heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he replied quietly, the corner of his mouth turning upwards and his soft, lovely eyes searching Aziraphale’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Crowley. I’m so terribly sorry. In my paranoia of being toyed with, I fear I fell guilty to lodging that very same behavior against you. You must know, my affections were never false. It’s only that when I realized they were so strong, when I was reminded by my past heartbreak, fear defied logic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were strong?” Crowley whispered, eyes distant and hazy, unwavering from Aziraphale’s face as if he were in a trance. Aziraphale’s heart ached that he’d treated him so poorly he could possibly doubt the extent of his affections- that he might need the confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very,” he admitted, ducking his head, “If you cannot forgive me, I understand. You must think me a cowardly fool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cowardly? No,” Crowley laughed breathlessly, fingers grasping the fabric of Aziraphale’s jacket, clasping for something unknown. The Alpha wished he knew what. He’d give it to him. He’d give anything to him. They were hip to hip now, Crowley curled toward him protectively as they shared such delicate secrets, ones the world would not understand. His voice and scent were wrought with emotion, but it did not ache Aziraphale- no. It was beautiful in its honesty. It offered him a strange solidarity.  “On the contrary, Lord Fell, I find you so remarkably brave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That came as no small surprise. Aziraphale sat up straighter, searching that face that became more beautiful the longer he looked at it, attempting to find any possible answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine how.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anthony ducked his head, cheeks burning with color, and took his hand back with a suddenness to fiddle with his own gloves yet again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- well, I- I’ve only been in a small handful of courtships, myself, and I confess they were only to appease my parents. Nothing inspires more fear in my mind or heart than the idea of choosing the wrong mate- signing my life, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>freedom,</span>
  </em>
  <span> away and becoming emotionally bonded and dependent on an Alpha who will never understand, accept, or-,” he paused, Aziraphale felt him tremble at the emotion the confession brought, and his heart ached, “or love me. To be strong enough to trust a person to face the rest of your life alongside you, to lose that, to still try again, or even simply have the courage to allow yourself the phenomenon of feeling affection once more-? Well. As I’ve said, I find you very brave indeed,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt as if he was dreaming. It was too generous- too </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet- </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be believed. Certainly, he did not deserve to be cast in such a reverent light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… ,” Crowley murmured, squirming and crossing his ankles beneath his seat, “Well. I’ve never gotten past the Third.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Third, a courtship law enforcing that a couple could not exchange chaste touches such as scenting or fleeting cuddles and could not become engaged until after the completion of the third month of close courtship or alternatively, in cases of long distance where the participants were apart for months on end, the third meeting and courtship gift presented to an Omega. Aziraphale was shocked at the implications of such a confession. If what Crowley said was true-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never had his bare hand held by a suitor. He’d never been scented or nuzzled. Never been </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart bloomed in light of being trusted with such a vulnerable confession. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he realized- Crowley had sought out one courtship, at least. One Alpha’s affections. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s sorrows were long forgotten, and in one brief moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the entire world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In such a case, I should feel even more horrified at my behavior. It was nothing you deserved. I confess I voiced a great deal of sentiments that I did not mean,” he promised quite sincerely, “and you were right, I do- </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, like clouds parting so the warm rays of sunshine might dry up the rain, a bright, albeit smile tentatively spread across Crowley’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And should I trust such sentiments include your insistence that we are not friends?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s heart warmed, and he smiled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I confess, with those words, I lied to myself just as fervently as I lied to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then perhaps I find you a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit of a fool,” Crowley teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale sounded a hearty laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But not a cowardly one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Crowley breathed a laugh, the honey in his eyes nearly as sweet as that in his scent, “No, not a cowardly one. A brave fool, if it should assuage you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I forgiven then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” The Omega playfully put his nose in the air away from Aziraphale, but looked at him from the edge of his slitted eyes. A grin toyed at his mouth. “Embarrass yourself for my amusement yet again and we shall see. Perhaps we could race horses, I’m sure I could best you most brutally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale found himself willing to embarrass himself one thousand times over, should he find himself in the good graces of such a miraculous being at the end of it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the late post! We're all caught up with my pre-written chapters and operating in real time now! Thus, it'll likely be a couple weeks until the next update.</p><p>A bit of an announcement: as I said last chapter, my anticipated chapter count has grown far and beyond 13. So I've decided to split them into two stories! This one will be the original 13 chapters, as intended. While there will be sexual themes, it will remain non-explicit (I'm waffling between T and M ratings), and will follow the boys' courtship and coming together. The sequel will be less plot, angst, and conflict and more self-indulgent smut and fluff! </p><p>Hope you guys are staying safe and practicing self-care &lt;3 Thank you as always for the delightful comments ;o; they honestly make my day!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter isn't actually Mature, but I decided that due to some of the more mature themes, I'm more comfortable going with that rating! </p><p>CW: Parallels to time period related experiences of closeted homosexuality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Lord Omega Anthony Crowley had felt a formidable sense of impending doom on no small number of occasions throughout his life. While others would likely claim that this might be due, in part, to a propensity for dramatics (and he did not appreciate these claims, as certainly he was not anything of the sort!), the catalyst for such emotions were nothing but the most palpable and realistic, in his mismatched eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The harbinger of this doom was always the same and most frustratingly inescapable to the extent that he found the culprit every time he deigned to look in a mirror. Seeing as he was rather vain (these claims he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> confess were honest and well-placed), this was a common occurrence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He simply had a way of ruining things for himself. His imagination would run wild. His behavior would break loose of any chains that societal expectation had bound it with. He would not pretend that his enthusiasm had ever been a creature that had been tamed, but when he was at his most hopeful it developed a prowess that no storybook creature could ever claim a likeness to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In short: he went too fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But how could he possibly find the suggestion of slowing down the least bit persuasive when his heart had been captured- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Not captured. It had been given quite freely. With Lord Aziraphale Fell, he’d never had a chance of keeping it locked up to begin with, no matter how hard he attempted to keep up that ridiculous charade of appearing aloof or callous. But for his part, Lord Fell had been the one to pick it up, hadn’t he? Even if it had been with the mere motivation of browsing, he had found it interesting enough to warrant a closer inspection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether he chose to buy it or decided the cost was greater than the value, it was his now, nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it always had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all the Alphas Crowley had attempted to court- for all those who had attempted to court him, Crowley had never felt a hint of attraction and nothing more than a strictly platonic affection. No, the courtships he had accepted- while very few- had been born of the potential that Crowley might be able to tolerate them. Perhaps not for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lifetime, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but for long enough to come close to the Third. To convince his parents he was trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this? This all-consuming flame that encompassed his heart, chased away his senses like a flame to wolves, lit up a passion he had never known resided within him, making him feel lighter than air, like he had sprouted wings and could take to the sky? It was like nothing he had ever known. It was like the sort of thing he was sure had only ever occurred in Austen novels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought back to their talk in the gardens, the emotion and vulnerability Lord Fell had shown,  so unbecoming of a high-society Alpha, yet there wasn’t a single display Crowley might have cherished more. Not one trait that could have appealed to his sense of attraction with such a powerful pull. Lord Fell had trusted him. Confided in him. Made himself so vulnerable and bared his broken and battered heart for the sake of making things right between them. His apology had been so sincere and his tale so utterly heart-breaking. He had shed tears, placing his most precious trust in Crowley to respect and honor them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A new soul had made it to the top of Crowley’s blacklist, and he was sure he would go feral should he ever be victim to the acquaintance of one Mr. Omega Raphael Fernsby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Lord Fell, however, he found himself more smitten than ever before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In truth, he’d not the slightest idea where they stood. Friends, that much was clear. Despite Lord Fell’s promise that his words in the park had been lies born of fear, Crowley could not quite rid himself of the concern that perhaps he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>go too fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this was a possibility he did not deign to take lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he was an impulsive creature. Perhaps his imagination ran away from him on occasion. Perhaps his hopes oftentimes blinded him from reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was no mere ideation- it was a fact: he wished to be the Omega that Lord Fell chose to mate, mark, and marry. For once, he saw a future where he did not simply tolerate some foolish Alpha who used and caged him. For once, he saw a lifetime of adventure with a person he was sure might become the dearest friend he would ever have. An Alpha who would never harm him and never hinder his untamable spirit. A mate who would love him, support him, and make a pack with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satan- he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>move fast. It wasn’t fair to expect Lord Fell to come to such massive resolutions at the same breakneck speed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps, with the kind, gentle Alpha’s scorn of the past, he needed to tread with care and caution- not that these were traits Crowley had ever excelled (or even succeeded) in practicing, but he found himself willing to try should it reward him further affection from the blessed angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An angel who had saved his life, he marveled, who had seen him barefoot, soaked to the bone and covered in mud and looked at him as if he was more beautiful than anything that could be found in the Louvre. An angel- a viscount- who had settled down in the dirt to tell a pack of strange pups a fantastical tale as he fed them biscuits, who had given over his handkerchief so quickly so that Crowley might wipe mud off one of their little faces. An angel who had admitted he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>Crowley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley realized he was smiling in the mirror as his hair was styled. His heart beat away madly within the cage of his chest, feeling warmer than if he’d basked in the heat of a hearth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always been a lazy creature- eager to stay in his nest, smelling the safety of his pack scents and cozily buried in a cocoon of warm blankets. Today was different. Today he was positively oozing with a surplus of energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what are you so pleased after?” Miss Mullins, his Ama’s Omega’s Maid (who had hated him for years) snipped, eager as ever for gossip she could bring back to his parents to get him in trouble. His Ama loaned her services to Crowley on occasions such as this, much to Miss Mullin’s chagrin. She and Hastur would make a remarkable pair, Crowley marveled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why shouldn’t I be pleased?” he shot back with raised brows, his nose primly held in the air. Of course he found it a most abominable trait to speak to servants as if they were lesser, but the belief was equally matched with a deep-set, wild instinct to embarrass any soul that should so much as hint at the intention of doing so to him. With only a huff in response, it did well enough to quiet the snippy Omega. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to his displeasure, he found none of the daywear he’d brought to be satisfactory for showcasing himself in front of an Alpha whom he wished to draw in closer, but he made do with a high-necked black blouse, a beautiful burgundy fitted waistcoat with intricate gold embroidered detailing, and a matching skirt that scandalously flirted glimpses of his ankles and lower calves. He’d acquired the set during his most recent visit to London, and after arguing with the seamstress until she at last brought up the hemline (and then tempting Dagon to bring it up just a couple wee centimeters more), it seemed just daring enough to suit his fancy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon finding his way down to breakfast, he was pleased to find the Alphas and Agnes already gathered and waiting for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The time he had spent agonizing over his clothing choice was more than well spent as he spotted that lovely pink hue color the angel’s face, so much like the first night they had met. His eyes looked quite blue this morning, Crowley noted, as they wandered down his frame, lingering at his throat and waist, the black pools of his pupils blowing wide as he fixed on Crowley’s lower calves. He looked away quickly, the pink turned to a fierce red, leaving Crowley preening with an impossibly wide grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved towards the spread of breakfast, and the group exchanged good mornings before piling on their breakfast and sitting at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell pushed in his chair, much to Crowley’s delight, seeming to have regathered his faculties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You truly didn’t need to wait on my account,” Crowley fussed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be silly, dear boy, of course we did,” the angel soothed with that smile that was most assuredly heavensent. Crowley couldn’t help but smile back, affection pounding through his veins until he realized Anathema was looking between them with raised brows. He served her a half-hearted glower and ducked his head to pick at his food, his scent positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>reeking </span>
  </em>
  <span>throughout the room. How foolish of him not to wear scent patches when he was afraid of frightening the viscount off with the intensity of his emotions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beatrix is returning today,” he recounted, finding a change in subject to be a fine idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” Anathema heaved a burdened sigh, “I can’t say I’m looking forward to sharing the events of Mr. Furcas’s visit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley fell quiet upon being forced to recall the memory, still smarting from the betrayal, and pushed his fluffed scrambled eggs around with the long prongs of his fork (his Ama hadn’t a care in the world whether or not he played with his food, though his old governess certainly had). The recollection made him feel small and exceedingly helpless. He could only be grateful Lord Fell had come to his rescue before his throat was torn from his neck, though if the angel had been harmed in his acts of valor, Crowley was unsure that he could ever grant himself forgiveness. Naturally, he yearned for an untimely death as little as the next adventurous soul, but he was quite certain he was unworthy of being injured on behalf of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed a cruel irony, realy. Had he not been cursed with an existence as a most obstructive being, he would never pretend to be so proud of it. Yet he was, and so he wore the unsightly trait of shamelessness like a badge of honor to keep from falling victim to the fact that he was nothing but a burden on every soul he’d ever loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked up from his plate, he found Lord Fell and Anathema engaged in a fascinating bout of silent communication, the language they were using composed of distinct eye movements and dramatic facial expressions. Much to Crowley’s amusement, it appeared the Alpha he admired was </span>
  <em>
    <span>scolding </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anathema, a glower that looked far too hard for his soft features fixed on his face, and she shrugged, raising her brows and jerking her head towards the Omega before discovering that he was watching her with an entertained expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was quick to move the conversation forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes well, naturally he didn’t get the star charts, the telescope, or the astronomy books. I was wondering if your Ama might want them, Aziraphale?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would he do with them?” Crowley asked curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a battle against nature not to cease breathing when those stormy blue eyes turned to him, but he managed to keep his breath even, flashing a pretty grin at the Lord Alpha that was returned with that soft, sunny smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ama studies astronomy, he’s quite the academic, really, insists one can never be too old to indulge in educational pursuits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confusion swirled into Crowley’s mind and evidently his features as well, because Lord Fell raised his brows, awaiting his impending questions eagerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that was nice. Crowley’s curiosity had always driven company away or irritated them at the very least. This Alpha was so comfortingly patient. Moreso, he seemed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoy</span>
  </em>
  <span> Crowley’s endless inquiries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Ama?” he repeated stupidly, sure he had misheard. The education of Omegas ended with the departure of their governess. It was a well known fact, and their curriculum certainly didn’t involve scientific matters. Boarding schools and universities didn’t take them and they weren’t permitted at scholarly seminars or debates. There was simply no place for them in the academic world no matter however different Crowley wished the truth of it to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s an American,” the Alpha admitted with a sheepish grin, “While I’d say there’s still a ways to go, there are more opportunities for high-society Omegas in America, however hard they must fight for them. Ama’s always had a passion for literature and astronomy and- well, any knowledge that’s set at his fingertips, truly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How lucky he is- and your Apa approves?” Crowley asked, pleasantly surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Ama had grown up with Lord Fell’s Apa, and had bountiful wild stories of their youth. From what he’d heard, Lady Alpha Sussex was as Alpha as they came- such a tomcat in her youth that the court still talked about her antics to this day. She had been good for any of it- a fight, a bet, or a tryst with any interested Omega (though Crowley hadn’t heard that bit, if anyone asked, and his mother had certainly censored that bit from her stories), and had cared much more for partying than politics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recalled having a great shock at her son’s demeanor in comparison, but then again, rumor had it that Lady Sussex, while still the life of the party, had never once strayed after settling down with her Lord Omega. She had been changed somehow, and the general consensus seemed to be that it was for the better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It became all too apparent why the angel had so quickly accepted Crowley’s opinionated ways, and he was very well pleased that Lord Fell had such a deep respect for Omegas. It wouldn’t be a stretch to surmise that he saw them as </span>
  <em>
    <span>equals, </span>
  </em>
  <span>even.</span>
</p><p><span>“Of course,” Lord Fell laughed, “Apa’s always put more personal stock in physical pursuits, but </span> <span>the academic world is what brought my parents together. My Ama had journeyed all the way to London for a meeting of the world’s greatest literary minds, upon receiving invitations in response to his literary analysis essays. When arriving, the organizers realized he was an Omega and nearly turned him out. My Ama is typically reserved and soft spoken, but he stood his ground and insisted he be allowed to participate after traveling all that way. My Apa was the only person who cared to hear his opinions, despite never once caring for literature before. He was so passionate about the subjects, caught up in the excitement of discussing his most dearly held books, that Apa says she fell in love instantly. He stayed in England for their courtship and accepted her engagement nearly as soon as they’d passed the Third.” </span></p><p>
  <span>“How romantic,” Crowley sighed wistfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That earned him a surprised look from the Alpha, and he felt his face heat, returning his gaze to the food he was far too worked up to have an appetite for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many thought his wild imaginings to be those of dangerous adventure and strange creatures and lands of fantasy, and in fairness, many of them were. However just as many were ideations of the life he might have in a perfect world. An Alpha who respected him and loved him to the moon and back. Pups of his own. The freedom to learn and create and ride and run through the forest and embrace whatever whim struck his fancy. It was all very romantic, indeed. A silly daydream he’d written about and played through his head since he was young. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To see his own Apa support his Ama’s artistic endeavors- to hear there was an Alpha out there who encouraged her Omega’s scholarly pursuits when she might have cared less for the topic herself? It gave him such incredible hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But perhaps it was a bit too soon to be so bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>obvious. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You go too fast for me, Crowley. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With his heart jumping in his chest, he cleared his throat and set down his napkin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do hope you’ll all forgive me, but I’ve forgotten some tasks I must tend to before the guests arrive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Lord Fell rushed out as he stood, though Crowley didn’t fail to notice, upon sneaking a glance, that he looked rather put out. His scent had turned mild, and already, the Omega longed after it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Anathema mumbled after him in a tone that sounded unconvinced. She stood as well, albeit slowly, and embarrassingly brought her bowl of porridge with her as she did so, still holding some contempt for high society customs after a lifetime spent in a quaint woodland cottage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley smiled weakly, grabbing the largest lungful of well-loved book and black tea scented air he possibly could before taking his leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How romantic,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mocked himself under his breath, a sneer locked on his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How the hell was he meant to achieve this? He had never been particularly skilled at censoring himself. Never </span>
  <em>
    <span>known </span>
  </em>
  <span>how to act differently than how he felt and never given a damn to try. Was the only way to keep from frightening Lord Fell with his intensity truly to stay away from him altogether? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, it seemed to be his only option. Even if the Alpha had been honest in his claim that he had never suspected him of being a promiscuous Omega, he didn’t wish to put the idea in his head by being too forward. He’d already won his friendship back once. What sort of fool would he need to be to risk losing it again? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well enough. He was sure he recalled some old adage about scarcity drawing attraction or absence making the heart fonder or some other absolute rubbish that didn’t find himself the least bit convinced by. Then again, he’d spent a lifetime taking part in traditions he quite believed belonged in the bin. Why should this be any different? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only that very much like those traditions, ideology became quite moot in the light of reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day was a mad flash of balancing between decorating and receiving guests. There was no reprieve in the fact that Anathema was determined to avoid her duties of receiving guests, but despite her best efforts, Crowley proved able to hunt her down wherever she was, forcing her to entertain them in his absence. Upon her grumbling that it shouldn’t be her responsibility, Crowley pointed out yet again the merits of having a mate to rescue her from such tasks, to which she lodged a very unconvincing marriage proposal at him once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It proved a task of enormous difficulty not to hover around Lord Fell, chasing after the scent of tea, books, and honey that soothed Crowley’s stressing soul. However, he didn’t wish to exhaust him with his presence, or to pressure him into sharing affections he did not desire to, and so he made himself scarce the moment he caught himself in the process of flirting or jesting or performing any general act that he feared might be too familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The labor of the day was thoroughly exhausting, and by the time Beatrix arrived, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with her anger. When informed of the events of Mr. Furcas’s visit, he was sure she nearly ran out the door on an aimless quest for blood, but when told that Crowley had nearly gouged out his attacker’s eye and left a scar that would last a lifetime with his own claws, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his sister look more proud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Better yet, the story of his rescue went far to restore his acting Direct Alpha’s opinion of Lord Fell. He scented himself on her thoroughly until she was grumbling with annoyance, but he couldn’t care less. He needed the affection and the familiarity of a pack Alpha’s scent, and given the amount of guests, there was nowhere for him to get scented safely by Anathema without the risk of witnesses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although there were over a dozen guests now, Crowley was pleased to find that Anathema, Beatrix, and Lord Fell were caught in something of a gravitational pull, orbiting around one another in their own little Alpha pack (although he did dearly wish Anathema might socialize- that was rather the point after all). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bodies began to move up the stairs to prepare for dinner, and the little friend pack did the same, though Beatrix was held back in a heated discussion over something Crowley didn’t need to overhear to know was quite ridiculous. They all stopped rather shortly upon hearing the arrival of a newcomer in the entrance hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rather late for arrivals, isn’t it?” Crowley pondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” Anathema asked, and rolled her eyes at the incredulous looks she got from the Lords, both Alpha and Omega. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell nearly excused himself towards the Unmated Alphas’ wing to let the hosts tend to their new arrival, but stopped shortly at the sound of a very loud, very American voice exclaiming sarcastically, “Oh, yeah, it’s so small I almost missed it. Miraculous the coachman was able to find a massive eyesore like this in the middle of nowhere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley cocked his head curiously, by nature intrigued by any person who might not prescribe to the exact social mannerisms society expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Lord,” Lord Fell huffed, “I have to believe Crowley was not responsible for his invitation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Anathema snorted, leading their way to the reception hall, “but I figured I’m not the only one who could use a bit of an introduction to British society.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been introduced my dear,” the angel tutted, turning his eyes skyward as if praying for strength, “he simply never cared to grow accustomed to the company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s interest had piqued now, and he peered out from behind Anathema as they entered the foyer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anathema!” the other American greeted with a smile that seemed more force of habit than anything genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley nearly didn’t believe his nose, but for as hard as he sniffed, he only picked up a very scarce scent of lemon and mint. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A Beta!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This massive, muscular, chisel-faced man was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beta!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel,” Anathema greeted, “It’s been a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Aziraphale, what’s got your knickers in a knot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde huffed and looked heavenward yet again, and Crowley found it very appealing to see the man he thought perfect so short of patience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, Gabriel. Perhaps I dreamt I should respond to a social call without being used to bolster your business.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Use’,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the Beta- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel- </span>
  </em>
  <span>exclaimed in mock-offense, “Cousin, you wound me. Come on- even the English must work connections?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell sounded a dubious grumble but seemed to recall the outsider among them and hemmed with a pointed look in Anathema’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of ceding her attention, the Lady Alpha was rather invested in examining her nailbeds. Upon a louder clearing of his throat, she looked up at last with a raised brow. The viscount looked pointedly between her and Crowley, prompting her silently. Confusion etched across her face, and she missed the cue entirely, instead looking the Omega up and down as if expecting to find something wrong with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley did his best to stifle a snort at her obtuseness, wearing a perfectly pleasant and patient, if not excessively amused smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell sighed, giving in at last, “Anathema, would you care to introduce your guest to the Omega who’s been kind enough to host this event for you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>guest?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gabriel repeated, face twisted up in amused incredulity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t you?” Anathema asked, equally affronted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m not the Lord of Cheshire!” the Lord Alpha exclaimed at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley barely masked his outburst of laughter with a cough, shaking his head but failing to shake the smirk on his face with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Anathema said shortly, “So that’s- okay, I guess that makes sense. Gabriel, this is Lord Omega Anthony J. Crowley, the youngest child of Lord Sutherland, a very old friend. He’s our hosting Omega. Crowley, this is my distant cousin and Aziraphale’s first cousin- so on second thought I still don’t understand why he couldn’t have introduced him- Mr. Gabriel Himmel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Himmel said, sticking his hand out so fast Crowley nearly flinched back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked down at the extended fingers curiously, and only realized he was being offered a </span>
  <em>
    <span>handshake </span>
  </em>
  <span>when Lord Fell nearly smacked his palm to his forehead and groaned from the swift kick of secondhand embarrassment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Crowley was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>embarrassed, nor was he offended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he had been a pup, touch had been so accepted, so normal, and he longed for those days when he could make a new friend and wrestle with them not moments later. When he could hold the hands of newly acquainted adults of any secondary gender as they walked through the gardens cooed over how darling he was. When he didn’t need to ensure he was away from prying eyes before being scented by an Alpha friend, or in private, pack-only quarters to get a lazy cuddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, as he got older, he became the forbidden fruit itself. He would reach out and find old friends pulling away, wrestle with his sister and be told grown Omegas weren’t to do such things, nuzzle under his Apa’s arm and be told very sharply that affection in family packs was something exhibited only in private now that he was older. He would carry less and less scents, until one day he found himself going from dawn to dusk with his own scent alone. He was treated as something fragile and untouchable, nothing like what he truly was- an Omega, </span>
  <em>
    <span>made </span>
  </em>
  <span>to cuddle and soothe and scent. He was reduced to a pretty decoration, only for looking, never for touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A concept, not a person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gabriel,” Lord Fell lamented, “You mustn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine!” Crowley said quite giddily, surging forward to grasp the Beta’s hand and shake it enthusiastically, “You’re very strange and I do believe I like you very much, Mr. Himmel!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Beta stifled a snicker in his throat and gave a lopsided smile, “Gabriel- and I get the sense I missed something. Surely the English won’t behead a guy for shaking an Omega’s hand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but try that on the wrong Omega and their pack Alpha will certainly have your head on a platter in no time,” Beatrix’s voice grumbled out. Her cinnamon and cloves scent was heavy with amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley turned to grin at his sister, still so soothed by the return of his acting Direct Alpha. Mr. Himmel- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gabriel- </span>
  </em>
  <span>had a much different response, immediately growing red-faced and flustered and pointing an accusing finger at Beatrix. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me,” she purred with a devilish grin, “Yanks are invadin’, eh? Now we’re attracting two-bit salesmen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re acquainted,” Lord Fell said cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel scoffed, “You could call it that- this is the asshole I was telling you about from the tailor! The one that tried to pick a fight with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bea snorted, their smirk something positively wicked now, “Pick a fight? That’s an exaggeration, Beta. No fun if there’s no competition.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beatrix, don’t antagonize my guests,” Crowley huffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little pup, if you didn’t want me antagonizing your guests, you shouldn’t have invited anyone just </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be antagonized.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley frowned, huffing yet again and just barely swallowing down an annoyed growl. If there was anything he loathed most in the world, it was being dismissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have some goddamn nerve-!” Gabriel started back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe the only person any of us are serving to antagonize is our host. So let’s all get a move on and change for dinner, yes? I’m sure you don’t wish to be a rude guest, Cousin Gabriel, nor do you wish to spoil your brother’s labors, Lord Beatrix?” Lord Fell intervened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment earlier, Crowley might have objected to the idea that his fondness for the Alpha might grow any stronger. Unfortunately for him, Beatrix wasn’t the sort to respond well to power plays, and Gabriel seemed to remain too jarred by the situation to leave it be. He had a sense that if his scent was stronger, it might indicate some form of upset, but nothing could be smelled over the sharp aroma of Beatrix’s amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lord?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re telling me that this jackass has power? This is the issue with a government based on inheritance. This country is so messed up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh, whimper louder, Beta,” Beatrix cooed, “If you were going to whine like that you should have brought your Ama to lick your wounds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about both of you can shut the hell up and go get changed, hmm? Neither of you live here, so how about you both stop being assholes,” Anathema grumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine by me,” Gabriel huffed, “Point me in the right direction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The butler guided him away, and Bea grumbled, throwing a performative pout in Anathema’s direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spoil sport.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stress of the day was compiling to overheat Crowley, and he did so dearly wish he’d thought to carry a hand fan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you both. I hope I won’t have to worry about that. Beatrix isn’t keen on listening to me or- well,” he sighed, a frown fixing his features, “any Omega, really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chanced a glance at the Lord Alpha and mightn’t have been surprised at the sympathy that resided there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep a close eye on Gabriel,” he offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’ll keep Bea in check. They might not like listening to other people, but this isn’t their manor and they’ll have to get over it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley nodded, and Anathema gave an apologetic smile as she turned, taking her leave towards the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega couldn’t help but feel a trickle of pride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s figuring it out, hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s starting to,” Lord Fell agreed, “but unfortunately it’s a bit more complex than maintaining Pack Alpha status.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley couldn’t pretend to understand. His Apa’s approach to Earldom was very Alpha-centric, focused on one sole concept: domination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s lucky to have the aid of an Omega who has it all so well sorted,” he continued, “you keep us grounded, do you know that, dear boy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I? Then I should hope you might have connections in Germany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha cocked his head, “And why is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because if I’m to be your last resort in remaining grounded, I fear we must start planning a life upon zeppelins.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked at the earnest laugh he earned in response, noting how heart-achingly handsome Lord Fell was when he was at his most relaxed- when he was himself. A thrill of pride spread warmth through his chest at the fact that he might be the one to encourage some comfort. He always had, hadn’t he? Since that night they met in the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then,” the Alpha amended, fixing him with soft, affectionate eyes, “you give us perspective on what’s important.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flatterer,” Crowley scoffed with a grin, rolling his eyes as they moved towards the stairs, but the blush on his face was something fierce. Being important to this person seemed to be all he might have ever had the nerve to hope for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>loathe </span>
  </em>
  <span>flattery, obviously,” the Alpha teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley smirked, falling victim yet again to that swarm of butterflies that was so keen on bursting through him. It was some sort of Pavlovian response, he was sure, to having the Lord Alpha’s attention in any capacity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” he teased back as they parted ways. He climbed the stairs as Lord Fell carried on towards the stairs to the Unmated Alphas’ wing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crowley?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega stopped in his trek on the first landing, leaning over the railing and delivering a pretty grin down at the angel, stood just before the arch of the hallway and gazing up at him with those eyes that appeared so shockingly blue at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That bastard smirk was back with a vengeance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little Pup?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fierce blush colored Crowley’s cheeks, accompanied by a boisterous whine of embarrassment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up!” he snarked, bustling up the rest of the stairs and hearing Lord Fell’s laugh echoing after him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>* * *</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next evening, morning, and afternoon were far too busy for the social event’s hosting Omega to do so much as entertain pursuing his own pleasures. He supposed on the matter of deciding whether this might be a blessing or a curse, it was simply a matter of perspective. Surely, he had the urge to strangle more than one person on more than one occasion, but he found himself safe from the threat of overwhelming Lord Fell with his affections. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naturally only the most esteemed guests had their lodgings at Anathema’s manor, and the rest would be arriving just before dinner. Due to some fantastical Cosmic foresight Crowley had never known himself to obtain, he had seated his sister and Gabriel at near opposite ends of the table. The latter had ended up near him, which was well enough- as the Beta was enormously entertaining. Just when Crowley was sure he might combust with irritation, Gabriel would share with him the most refreshingly insightful take on one of the guests, and the Omega would be left turning red with the strain of withholding a cackle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had blessedly placed Lord Fell away from himself as well. He resided near Anathema, now, which seemed a safe choice, as he could guide her in the proper etiquette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was at last time for the ball, Crowley changed into the exquisite gown he’d had made for the occasion, a deep red and black chiffon and satin piece that showed more of his bare freckled shoulders than it strictly needed to (the entirety of them, to be precise) and was fastened with stunning gold leaflet clips that matched those that arranged his hair into delicate little swoops. He admired himself in the mirror before finding himself satisfactory. Perhaps he wished to keep himself from Lord Fell, but he very much wished for Lord Fell to be drawn to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He adjusted his black gloves, pulling them up to his thin biceps before gathering his skirts in one hand and resting the other on the bannister, making his descent with caution. Upon reaching the lowest landing, he breathed in a waft of fresh parchment, as if a well loved book’s pages were ruffled in a breeze. It was a lovely thing, open and vulnerable, and it drew his gaze upwards to smile at the viscount standing at the bottom of the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he was so lovely, standing there in his outdated fashion, a dark blue-grey tailcoat and a light-blue waistcoat, an old-fashioned golden cravat puffing up his chest. His eyes were wide and soft, locked onto Crowley as his mouth hung ajar. The Omega couldn’t be certain that he was breathing, and how could he possibly withhold his gleeful preening? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think? Should I do?” he asked, playfully posing on the landing, one hand with its fingertips delicately set on his own shoulder, the other perched on the bannister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha’s mouth moved the slightest bit, but only a gush of air left it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley couldn’t help but snicker, descending the last several steps. As he approached, the scent of tea took over- not oversteeped, but rich and sweet, and Crowley might have lived a lifetime in that beautiful aroma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cat got your tongue?” he teased, and Lord Fell’s soft, handsome face filled with a lovely hue that reminded Crowley of the pink roses in his mother’s garden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-,” he started, appearing unable to regather his faculties and doing impeccable things to Crowley’s ego as he stammered stupidly, “You- that’s- my dear boy-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh dear. Crowley had broken a perfectly fine Alpha. How very delightful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang, and he smiled wickedly at Lord Fell, “Duty calls. Perhaps you might manage to finish your thought in my absence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reception of guests went as well as he might have deigned to hope. The portion of the peerage that approved of Crowley was rather niche, but at the very least he could say he </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed</span>
  </em>
  <span> most of them rather than simply tolerating their company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After several arrivals, he was pleased to see Cassandra Pulsifer, an Omega he’d been presented with back in his youth and easily one of his strangest relations. They were friends, truly, but there was something quite unfriendly there too, as if they had found a rivalry just as real. He eagerly greeted her and her Ama, and his curiosity was sated as he at last met the younger brother she had agonized over in her letters- the one who, according to her, must have been the worst high-society Omega to have ever lived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley was delighted to meet his competition for the title at long last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Omega Newton wasn’t completely unfortunate. Crowley was unable to make a judgement of his scent as there were patches firmly fixed over his scent glands. His face wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>attractive, and Crowley couldn’t possibly condemn a fellow Omega who had cut their hair short as he had. He did, however, look as if he’d never worn a corset in his life, on the verge of swooning at any moment. Perhaps that mightn’t have surprised Crowley, as Newton was a bit green around the gills- an extremely late bloomer, who had only had his coming out a mere two years earlier, at the age of twenty. His gaze wasn’t quite focused, and the hosting Omega had a sneaking suspicion he was meant to be wearing spectacles that his Ama had likely revoked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him three attempts to find Crowley’s hand, but he seemed kind enough, if not terribly awkward, Crowley assumed awkwardness was warranted when one was forced somewhere they did not wish to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema was beside him for the process, of course, though she was restless, acting as if there was somewhere else she needed to be and seeming to be of the opinion that her valuable time was being wasted. She was likely dreaming about wandering off into the woods, foraging for mushrooms and building cabins and talking to ghosts and doing witchcraft with her grandmother-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley wasn’t actually certain that’s what they did, but he did recall when he was an adolescent and suffered terrible nightmares, she’d pushed his bed to the side and drawn a strange symbol, laid out stones, and held his hands, telling him he only needed to believe in the magic for it to work. And he did. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the nightmares had stopped. He didn’t need much more convincing than that to be firmly set on the theory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did look rather striking, Crowley would admit. Striking enough for him to humor the idea of accepting her proposal, if not only for his own entertainment (he was bored too, of course- how could he not be?). Her hair was half down as it so often was. While she often opted for skirts and dresses for morning wear, she found the evening gowns to be thoroughly exhausting, and opted instead for a tailcoat and trousers that accented her lean form so well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is ridiculous, isn’t it?” she huffed when they had a pause in reception. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega frowned at her in confusion, “what’s ridiculous?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This parade of silly Omegas, vying for my attention so obviously. I don’t know how anyone finds it attractive, it’s absolutely debasing. They must feel humiliated. This is-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is our only bloody option unless we wish to be abandoned by our own packs, scorned by society forever, or stuck in a brothel for a lifetime,” Crowley growled, but did not leave his position, faced forward with his hands clasped in front of him, “I don’t like it any more than you do, but unless you have a sudden solution for all high-society Omegas in Britain- one that might offer them a better option- I suggest you choose your words and judgements wisely tonight, as any slight you target at these ‘silly Omegas’ is a slight you target at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema’s sandalwood and amber scent grew distressed, and she lodged a remorseful glance at Crowley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m-... I’m sorry, Crowley. I’ve known you since you were so young- you’re so clever and creative and it’s just so easy to forget that you’re-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of them?” he snapped, “Perhaps you should take that into account. Perhaps they’re much more complex than the ridiculous creatures you see. Perhaps they’re human beings, and the problem is not with them debasing themselves, but with you viewing them as debased. If you’re going to be part of this society, it’s a pretty bloody stupid choice to go swinging in making wild generalisations, innit? If you’re so determined to look down on everyone around you, perhaps you’re better off scuttling back to America and disappearing into the woods. I’m sure your superiority complex suits you quite well there. Easy to think your society is perfect when it doesn’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell quiet for a time as they watched the next guests climb out of the carriage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve always had a way of making people look at things in a new light, Little Pup.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley pondered on that, remembering, for a brief moment, Lord Fell’s words about perspective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her behavior was greatly improved after that, if not with a few cultural missteps that she remained too blissfully ignorant of to feel embarrassed for. In any case, it pleased Crowley, and he debated whether or not he might choose to punish her for the rest of the evening in the manner he had planned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of that fell away, and Crowley felt his heart jump at the entrance of the next guest- the young Mr. Omega Oliver Westin, one of Crowley’s oldest friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always been quiet, polite, everything a high-society Omega was meant to be. He always wore his patches and kept his eyes low, but in the most strategically placed moments in which he found himself unobserved, he would lean over and unleash his razor-sharp wit in a single concise comment that would leave Crowley in such hysterics that he would receive a firm scolding from his governess (and not care the least bit). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same feeling he had as a hopelessly lost teenager fluttered through his stomach again. The same dizzying joy of when they had shared secret kisses in the garden- kisses that were more than friendly. ‘Practice,’ they had said, for their future mates. The same euphoria of scandalous imaginings that helped him through his first heats. The same heartbreak as when Oliver had let him down easy with such gentleness upon their next meeting, insisting that he ‘wasn’t like that’, but would never judge Crowley for the way God made him. The fondness and safety he found when the Omega continued on to say that Crowley would always have a friend in him, a place to confide his secrets where he could rest easy knowing they would not be shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had seen each other but once or twice since then, but they had written often. Crowley had kept his secrets to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver was just as pretty as he ever had been- several times more so, if Crowley wasn’t imagining things, and his face lit up with a bright smile upon seeing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My goodness, Crowley, look at you- you’re simply stunning, though we all knew you would be,” he said with a sly smile, leaning forward to swap scents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley met him halfway, unsure if he might make him uncomfortable by returning the sentiment. Instead he deflected the way he had learned to do so well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oliver, I’m wounded! You say that as if I haven’t always been stunning!” he responded in mock offense, pleased when Oliver raised a hand to hide his laugh, and Crowley felt his heart swell. He’d missed him something wretched. “I do hope we can catch up later- in the meantime, this is Lady Alpha Cheshire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley was relieved to find that he wasn’t the only one that should find Oliver to be beautiful, and Anathema seemed to take a shine to him rather quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon all the guests had been received and the dinner gong rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For as much as Crowley enjoyed chaos, he found he liked it much less when he was expected to sort it out. The servants were coming to him about this or that at nearly every turn, and he found dictating the direction of conversation for the entire table to be a much more challenging balance than he had ever anticipated. His Ama had always made it look so easy, but he couldn’t help but stagger with it and feel a bite of scalding shame with each fumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least, all of his pack Alphas were too busy or too far to supervise him, and so he found himself free to drink as much wine as he pleased-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it didn’t take much, considering that at home his Apa allowed him no more than one glass (and even that was only on very special occasions). By the time dinner was over and the ball had begun, he had a pleasant buzz humming through his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evidently, his labors had only just begun, as he found himself too busy introducing guests and defusing arguments to do so much as dance- and what was the point of a bloody ball if he couldn’t even dance?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema seemed to be having a grand time. In practice it seemed she had much fewer complaints about pretty, eligible Omegas flocking around her. Crowley could empathize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a rare moment, he found himself free of tasks, and turned to find a friend to talk to. Beatrix and Gabriel were huddled in the corner, arguing yet again- but in a strange turn of events, it seemed they were rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoying </span>
  </em>
  <span>their disagreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Influenced by alcohol, he decided perhaps it wouldn’t be a terrible plan to allow himself just one visitation with Lord Fell- the thought of his scent alone seemed a Godsend to his nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to his devastation, when he found that blonde halo of curls at last, an Omega was sidled up in the chair beside him. The pair leaned in close, sharing grins and laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Oliver, and Crowley had never in his life seen him so smitten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>seen Lord Fell look more enamored- with him, to be precise, but it was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? Crowley had some sense of self-awareness, and he knew when it was no contest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a footman passed by, he snatched up another glass of wine, not giving a damn who saw as he threw it back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A great clamor occurred somewhere behind him, followed by a series of gasps, and he twisted, face flushing in a fierce second-hand embarrassment as he saw Anathema, staring down at the wine trickled down the front of her ensemble and the unconscious Omega at her feet. Newton Pulsifer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh bloody Hell,” Crowley mumbled under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What an excellent start to a party, he might think, were he not the poor sap tasked to manage it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Boy howdy, y'all, the last 5 months have been crazy- including, but not limited to: getting my first full time job, writer's block, house hunting, grief, getting covid, seasonal depression, and finding a house. 😬 The GOOD news is that I close on my house tomorrow, and I'm so excited to have my own space to thrive and create!!!</p><p>That said, HERE'S A CHAPTER!!! I'm aware it's pretty exposition heavy, but I thought it was probably a good time to learn more about Crowley- not just what he's thinking and feeling, but why he thinks and feels that way. </p><p>If you've stuck around long enough for this update, I honestly cannot thank you enough for your patience!!! This fic means so much to me, and I'm happy to have people to share it with. </p><p>You'll be happy to know the next chapter is already finished! I'm guessing I won't be able to hang onto it too long ;3 </p><p>As always, comments are so very appreciated!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley rushed over to the scene where Anathema was crouching down, hands on the unconscious Lord Omega Newton Pulsifer’s shoulder until she seemed to recall the scandal of touching him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you he was embarrassing!” his older sister wailed from nearby</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I’m sure he woke up this morning hellbent on fainting in the middle of a ballroom,” Crowley snarked with a roll of his eyes, “Come on, Anathema, help me get him to my den?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is- that alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we should just leave him here,” the Omega drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anathema threw him an annoyed glance, but with the permission of Newt’s Ama scooped him up into her arms, following Crowley to his den and blushing something fierce as she laid the unconscious Omega in his nest. She shuffled out not a moment later, likely going to change out of her crimson-stained clothing. Miss Mullins was quickly up with a pitcher of water and wasted no time in helping Crowley with unfastening the layers the poor Omega was stuffed into. They made a valiant effort of freeing him from his absurdly tightened corset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Satan, what was his Ama trying to accomplish? It’s like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wished </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him to faint,” he remarked, watching as Newton took a great gulping breath of air. They turned him over, Crowley wielded a hand fan and Miss Mullins a damp, cool cloth as they worked together on cooling off the poor overheated Omega. Crowley pulled off one of Newton’s scent patches, well aware of how strongly Omega’s responded to familiar scents, even their own. He was pleasantly surprised by how lovely he smelled. For as plain as he was, his scent was complex. He smelled like… like a rainy day, and Crowley found himself unable to expand on the description in any proper way, but he liked it very much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Newton started awake in a haze, gasping out a string of nonsense and twisting about, likely overwhelmed by finding himself in a strange nest full of stranger scents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- where-?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fainted,” Crowley offered, unable to stifle a sharp grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no,” Newton groaned, smacking his hands over his face, “Ama’s going to kill me, I reckon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say that fear’s a bit moot- she nearly did, and yet she failed,” the Omega teased, “Here, drink this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He helped the brunette sit up, handing him the cool glass of water that he eagerly drank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not used to corsets?” he asked, though he was fairly certain he already had his answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That obvious?” Newton asked sheepishly, “I much prefer trousers and waistcoats. I never wear skirts unless Ama makes me come to these things- no offense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None taken,” Crowley mused, unable to stop the grin playing at the corner of his lips, “Well, I’m sure I have something more comfortable you could borrow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega looked down upon his own state of dress, running his hands over his skirts, “But my gown is fine- Ama will riot if she discovered I’ve changed for no reason.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have great affection for this gown?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he mumbled miserably, “It makes me look ridiculous...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, I believe I might know how to help you,” Crowley chirped as he pulled at the fingers of each glove, giving a final tug to each to free his long, slender fingers from the silk casing. He grasped the edge of Newt’s gown, digging his claws into the satin and tearing a large rip about the hem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met brown eyes, staring at him in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, now I’ll just have to lend you something, eh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grin crossed his face as the Omega burst into laughter, and perhaps he had judged his appearance too harshly and too soon, as his smile now was really something he found he could grow to be quite fond of. He imagined any Alpha with functioning eyes and half a brain might agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They picked through his wardrobe together before settling on an evening jumpsuit featuring turkish trousers. Newton appeared a bit sheepish upon pulling it on, and perhaps it was a bit cruel in a way, as Crowley’s sense of fashion was rather daring- likely nothing this quiet (aspiring) wallflower of an Omega would ever choose to wear. He looked a bit out of place in it, but at least he appeared stylish in doing so. Miss Mullins reworked Newton’s hair, as both Crowley and the Omega’s maid were certain they could figure out something much more flattering for his brown locks than being pinned back flat against his head</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… Lord Anthony, right? Sorry, don’t usually pay much attention to these things…,” he admitted, and Crowley found himself immediately more fond for the candor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me Crowley.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, well… thank you, Crowley. I know no one actually wants to invite me to these sort of events. Usually they don’t, but I’m fine with that, it’s not like I’m actually a viable mate,” he laughed at his own expense, and Anthony was annoyed with the pang in his chest at the familiarity of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their loss, s’pose. I feel the same way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You?” Newton asked, lodging an incredulous look at Crowley’s reflection in the mirror. The lean, freckled figure snorted, deep red brows raised in amusement, and the brunette’s ears turned pink, “Sorry- it’s just- you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, “Let’s just say you’re not the only one here to make a spectacle at a party.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no… was it that bad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>tip a tray of filled wine glasses onto Ana- Lady Cheshire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The color flooded from his new acquaintance’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me you’re bluffing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh gosh,” Newton groaned, a pitiful whimper slipping from him as he smacked his hands over his face, “I shouldn’t go back- can I stay here until it’s over?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm afraid not," Crowley tutted in a mock grave demeanor, "But I do have good news for you, Lord Newton-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just Newt's fine, I think," the Omega muttered, and Crowley only felt his opinion of his counterpart improve. Nicknames already! How improper. How admirable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Newt, the good news is: there’s no such thing as bad press. <em>Especially</em> when you know how to turn it in your favor after the fact, and we can fairly say you’ve gotten Lady Alpha Cheshire’s attention,” Crowley mused, and as Mara stepped away, having worked wonders with the distressed Omega’s hair, Crowley stepped forward, pulling his other scent patch off and asking for a specific strand of pearls, set of earrings, and an ornate silver headband he had ensured was brought with on his journey before carefully arranging them on Newton, “There’s no need to be nervous- I’ll tell you exactly what’s about to happen. We’re going to go down together. Everyone’s going to see how absolutely fabulous you look. Your Ama is going to feel rightly ashamed of herself for her neglect. The Alphas will be pressed to remember any unflattering event ever occurring in the first place, and best of all- your sister is going to be positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>vexed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with jealousy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a laugh,” Newton groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I’ve known her for years- if there’s anything she hates most, it’s realizing she’s underestimated another Omega,” Crowley mused with a devilish grin, “and if there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>something that she despises even more, it would be that very same Omega showing her up.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With more than a bit of encouragement, they returned to the ballroom at last, and Newton immediately froze upon becoming the subject of nearly every gaze in the room. He didn’t seem to notice, however, that the Alpha’s weren’t looking with anything akin to scorn, just as Crowley had promised they would be. Crowley magnanimously introduced him to a couple of the Alphas he knew were very kind and excused himself, finding that for as much wine as he had drank, it wasn’t nearly enough. He downed a cup in a mere few minutes, and upon finding Lord Fell and Oliver crowded together yet again, this time on the other side of a room on a settee, he drank yet another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor Newton had found himself alone yet again, and the high-society Omegas were doing what they were wont to do- gossiping with no interest in discretion. Naturally, the nasty little pack was led up by Cassandra herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit of a smile played on Crowley’s mouth as he enjoyed his role as spectator (for once in his life), pleased as he observed Anathema walk over to Newton with two drinks in hand. He looked up at her with wide, surprised eyes, nodding eagerly at something she said. She took a seat beside him, handing him a drink, but not releasing it until she’d said something that made his ears turn bright red again. She spoke another time, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unexpected turn, altogether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Crowley’s reprieve could not be found through a friend's. A handful of Alphas and Betas were getting rowdy in the corner, Beatrix and Gabriel were still at it and louder than ever, the violinist was clearly drunk, and after scanning the room three times- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver and Lord Fell were nowhere to be found. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley grabbed up another glass of wine- one too many, if the way the room was spinning and his gut was churning was any indication. He felt as if he was suffocating. So many scents, none the one he yearned for, his own so charred he was beginning to receive looks. Soon he found himself staggering down the hallway, the world strange and different in a way that frightened him through his drunken lense. His limbs didn’t feel like his own, his gloved fingers appearing as something entirely foreign as he shoved the doors to the terrace open from the morning room, stumbling out onto it and leaning over the railing as he dry heaved. The lack of spit-up was bordering on frustrating, as he was certain that managing as much might make him feel markedly better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Physically, that was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears flooded in his eyes, and he felt a rage of such intensity it could only be targeted at himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here it was, the doom he’d been dreading, and true to form, he was it’s harbinger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d sent the Alpha he was sure to be the love of his life off with an Omega he knew to be a better choice in mate than him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t cry- he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was an Omega of twenty and eight years, obtaining full faculties and perfectly capable of owning his own mistakes. If Lord Omega Newton Pulsifer would not cry at throwing wine all over the eligible Alpha he had come to present himself to and fainting in the middle of a ball, Crowley would not cry at the reality of Lord Fell and Oliver shut in a cupboard somewhere, doing sordid things he had no business imagining and no courage to face the reality of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it had never been that he went too fast. Perhaps he was simply the wrong Omega. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wiped a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand, then his mouth, turning to lean his lower back against the railing of the terrace. His heart stuttered as he caught sight of an angel through the glass doors of the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There should be an award for foolishness, he thought as his heart soared with </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as he would surely be the standing champion, year after year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley staggered forward, his gait stumbling from side to side as he did so, until he had reached the door. He craned his neck to peer in the window, finding the Alpha to be alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouldn’t he have known that when stuck amongst company he was not fully keen on, Lord Fell would always gravitate back to the same place? Here he was, pacing with a book open in his hands, looking happier and more content than he’d given the impression of feeling all day. More smitten than he had been even once in the company of Oliver. Literature truly was one of the greatest loves of his life, just as he’d said, the one lover that he could stumble back to at any moment, knowing it would never harm him. Crowley couldn’t help but feel an immense wave of fondness for witnessing the gravity of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega heard him humming, somehow, however faintly, and realized it was coming from the speaking tube beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were strange things, as strange as anything else about the anachronistically inventive architecture of the house, and they ran between nearly every room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wicked grin crossed his features, his misery forgotten in an instant. He knew an opportunity for mischief when he saw one, and surely nothing could lift his spirits more</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned down to the speaking tube, barely withholding his manic giggling as he managed the absolute spookiest voice he could emulate and whispered, “Alpha.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell’s head shot upright, and he turned, looking around himself. When he found himself to be alone, he shook his head, returning to his book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s lonely here. Read to me, Alpha?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time the Lord Alpha’s shoulders hitched up to his ears, and he stood stock still for a moment before he shut his book, rounding the library and looking behind furniture. Crowley indulged in a greatly required moment to swallow more laughter before leaning in once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But not that one, Thomas Hardy is soooooo depressing. Absolutely overrated, if you ask me,” he did his best to sigh in a goulish voice, though he was reduced to giggles by the end of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright Crowley, where are you?” he faintly heard the angel’s voice call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>High off mischief, he smacked his hands against the glass, delighting in the way Lord Fell jumped a foot in the air and yelped. Then he was done for, naturally; Crowley absolutely fell apart into hysterical laughter, struggling to remain balanced on his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>crying, but for a reason much more delightful than only moments earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the door open and was still winding down from his laughter when he looked up at Lord Fell, who was making a valiant attempt at appearing cross and failing miserably. The smirk on his face was apparent no matter how valiantly he attempted to smother it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hilarious, my dear. Truly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you know it was me?” Crowley giggled, staggering a bit on his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha looked him up and down, “I can’t imagine there are too terribly many Scottish ghosts about, even less that have controversial opinions on Thomas Hardy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch! Pshhhhh-aw! ‘Controversial’! Ha! That’s a laugh! I’m right, angel, and you know it!” Crowley managed out, leaning onto the door jam and lodging a coy grin at the Alpha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t read the Lord Alpha’s face, turned uncharacteristically blank for a moment, but his scent was such an overwhelming comfort that Crowley melted against his support, sounding a contented sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At last, Lord Fell’s soft lips spread into the sunniest smile, and he lodged a look of such enormous fondness at the Omega that Crowley was certain it must be criminal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angel?” the angel asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley batted his red lashes in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord Alpha smiled wider, “You called me ‘angel’, just then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley hummed thoughtfully, squirming in place until his back was resting on the door frame. He tilted his head back, searching the cosmos above for some artful excuse and finding it all to be spinning far too much to have any success. Instead he snorted, rolling his head towards Lord Fell and smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell’s eyebrows quirked, and his scent grew intoxicatingly light with amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you didn’t call me ‘angel’, or no, you decline to comment?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugged a shoulder, offering a coy grin from behind it and looking through his lashes at the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, standing so near, the light flooding out from behind him and lighting up his blonde curls like a halo. Of course he was a bloody angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s to say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quiet chuckle rumbled forth from the Alpha’s chest, but he tilted his head and took a long look at Crowley. The Omega couldn’t understand how such soft eyes could gut him so deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look… pulchritudinous tonight,” he sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley barked a laugh, feeling slightly guilty for it as Lord Fell’s ears turned red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m certainly glad you’ve taken the time to finish your thought,” he teased, “Although I do hope it’s a good thing to look puh-... pul- ph- cru- plucrudinous- plucunderitous-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pulchritudinous,” Lord Fell offered magnanimously, another rumbling laugh warming Crowley from the inside out, “I should think so. It describes a beauty that is devastatingly heartbreaking in nature. Utterly breathtaking. Near offensive in its power.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley subconsciously chirped a lazy, love-drunken trill, and for a moment he thought the Alpha might melt into the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know, that’s exactly the look I was going for? I was looking at my wardrobe, planning my hairstyle and I looked at my Ama’s Omega’s maid and said, ‘Tonight I must look absolutely pulchritidi- pulchrudio-’,” he huffed in defeat, lodging a pout against Lord Fell, “You did this to me on purpose!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha gave that charming bastard grin that left Crowley swooning on his feet despite the support of the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, my dear boy, I have a sneaking suspicion that you’ve been indulging.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave a performative gasp, pressing his fingers over his heart, “I’m not sure you have a leg to stand on, my good Lord Alpha, after sneaking away from my own smashing party to shove your nose in a book.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might it be prudent for me to point out that you, too, have snuck away from said party?” Lord Fell grumbled with a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley huffed, but smiled, rolling his eyes and leaning his head back on the wooden support to look skyward yet again, “I simply adore planning parties. I thrive upon attending them, being the prettiest Omega in the room, if only that I might have an excuse to dance for every song. I love causing an uproar and making older Omega’s clutch their pearls at my scandalous audacity to have an opinion- and hearing that people talk about my parties for months after? Inciting envy in those who weren’t invited? I couldn’t say anything should give me more pride. But throwing the ball itself? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loathe </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. Everyone always wants something. I don’t have time for a single dance. Every problem becomes mine. It’s absolute rubbish.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord Alpha hummed thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve decided to imbibe to the point you are unable to take any responsibility for these problems?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it! Exactly!” Crowley drawled with a grin, “aren’t you the most clever- cleverist- aren’t you so clever, Alpha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were he not so inebriated, Crowley might have believed he heard a pleased, low rumble of a growl that made his heart skip and jump at having called the object of his affections ‘Alpha’. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>inebriated, and even so, the little fantasy of having incited such a lovely sound that warmed him to his core left butterflies fluttering throughout his ribcage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said Alpha shook his head, exhaling a silent laugh and smiling fondly at the Omega. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, for all your reluctance, it was rather sweet how you took care of poor Lord Omega Pulsifer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heat that pooled to Crowley’s face was maddening, and his heart stuttered a second time. A danger to his health, this Lord Fell. He pouted again, wishing to run and hide and stay and preen all at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’not </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he sneered, the standoffishness underscored by the way he busied himself with running his fingers up and down the ridge of the doorframe, devoting rather more attention to the act than it needed, “You’re mad as a- as a - as a- mad as- that’s- something that’s mad, if you think so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure you’re quite good at holding your liquor, dear boy,” Lord Fell said, and by the tone in his voice, Crowley could surmise that he was greatly amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pshh! </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>not good at holding your liquor!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” the Alpha said, coming to some sort of resolution and looking over his shoulder, “Perhaps I should find a maid to get you to bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley huffed, crossing his arms and pouting, “I’m nae going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m twenty-eight bloody years old! I’m nae a pup!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord Alpha turned his attentions back to him, gave him a soft look, and smiled, “Of course you’re not, but you do seem to enjoy putting me in these situations that might get me in a great deal of trouble. As gracious as he was to me in person, I’ve heard stories about your Apa, you know, and I can’t say I’m enthusiastic to earn his disfavor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be sure what you mean,” Crowley insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve given up reminding you that we ought to be chaperoned, but our being alone together feels much more difficult to explain when it’s late at night and you’ve drunk your weight in wine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega gave a devilish smirk, pushing off the door frame and taking a step back onto the terrace, “Don’t be silly, Lord Fell, we’re not even in the same room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha laughed, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley swayed in the breeze, heart soaring at the lovely song he only faintly heard from the ballroom through the speaking tubes. He lazily spun on his feet a couple times, feeling very much like dancing, before saying in a sing-song voice, “Of course, it is awfully lonely out here, and the sky is ever so lovely. It would be a shame if I were to lose my balance while looking at it, perhaps even finding myself grievously injured, and no one were here to come to my aid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He peered over his shoulder with a smirk, seeing Lord Fell leaning against the doorway now with his arms crossed and a serious expression written on his face. It seemed safe to assume he was not convinced. So Crowley returned to dancing on his own, soul soaring on the looseness that the alcohol instilled in him, the scent of autumn on the wind that rustled his skirts, the coolness of the night that woke him up and made him feel reborn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a wicked little tempter, do you know?” he heard the Alpha’s voice from nearby, and he stopped in his dancing, turning to find, much to his delight, that the angel had joined him on the terrace. Perhaps it was the wine, but the way he looked at Crowley now was so very reminiscent of the feelings Crowley held in his heart for him in turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded another joyous chirping trill, clumsily leaning on the railing aways away in a manner that had the Alpha’s scent spiking with anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he teased, looking upwards at the stars, and he was certain, should he be blessed with this company for the rest of his life- this angel and the heavens that had blessed the earth with his presence- he should want for nothing ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was no astronomer, and he didn’t know the proper constellations. But when he had been a pup, his Ama and Apa would take him on walks on mild summer nights. They would find a clearing, lay down a blanket, and he would lay between them- the safest place he could possibly be in the whole wide world. Together, they would find shapes in the stars and take turns spinning tales for them, expanding infinitely until Crowley at long last fell asleep. His heart ached to think of the happy time. What he would give for his Apa to hold such affection for him still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You enjoy the outdoors,” Lord Fell noted, and Crowley’s heart beat faster upon realizing he had drawn nearer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley leaned in, a playful grin on his face as he murmured conspiratorially, “Might I really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alpha smiled back, clearly unable to pretend to be any less fond of his shenanigans than he truly was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It suits you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A hatter!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A thing that’s mad- a hatter! Like The Mad Hatter! Thassit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Yes. Of course. I might have known,” Lord Fell humored him, his eyes wide and shining with impossible adoration and his voice softer and sweeter than it had any right to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave him a long look, his heart aching with the desire to be with this Alpha. His smile faded slowly, as he remembered what had brought him out here to begin with. Perhaps Lord Fell had not run off with Oliver, but such a scenario failing to come to fruition was no certain indicator of his interest in going further- going </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere- </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Crowley. His presence here and now meant little more than that he was a gentle-Alpha kind enough to humor a drunken Omega who had dangerously struck out on his own, straying from the pack and making himself an easy target. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen Oliver around?” Crowley blurted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t accounted for how alcohol might hinder his gift of gab. The blow was considerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oliver?” the angel asked, blankly. That seemed a decent sign. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Omega Westin?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Yes, of course. Hm. Not since I excused myself from the ballroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A very neutral answer, and one that gave Crowley very little to analyze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have reason to believe he fancies you,” he noted, tactlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have reason to believe you’re correct,” Lord Fell mused, gaze meandering skyward, and in the starlight, his eyes hosted their own wondrous suns, glimmering in the cloudy blue pools of his iris and giving Crowley the most firm concept he’d ever had of what Heaven might look like. It only made sense that even if an angel was taken from his home, he would carry it with him, always. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s very pretty,” he said breathlessly, his voice coming out in a sigh, hardly louder than a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he?” the Alpha asked. With the way he was transfixed on the celestial painting stretched across the canvas of the sky, Crowley wondered if he might be homesick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And well bred,” Crowley argued, failing to notice his own feet drawing him closer to the Alpha, his backside sliding down the length of the railing towards him, his lungs working fast to inhale that beautiful scent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure there’s an Alpha alive who truly cares about such a thing, for however vigilantly they might pretend to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s clever, too,” the Omega breathed, standing a mere half meter from his- his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heavens shone down on him as Lord Fell’s eyes met his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve met cleverer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s heart beat madly in his chest, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet. It felt different, somehow, from the influence of alcohol. It felt as if he had made himself malleable to a force much more powerful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed his best attempt at a grin, laughing breathlessly, “High standards, have you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, but that’s nothing to do with it,” the Alpha insisted, his voice wielding an earth-quaking might despite his softness, so similar to when he told stories- drawing the listener into a state they couldn't possibly escape from and disarming them from any desire to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what’s it to do with?” the Omega asked, searching the angel’s eyes as if they held the answer to the universe- but such cosmic answers were inconsequential to him when compared with this single one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aziraphale- </span>
  </em>
  <span>smiled, and when he so tenderly took Crowley’s slender, gloved fingers in his own strong yet gentle grasp, the Omega’s face had already split into a grin so deliriously overfilled with joy he felt his eyes squint and his nose wrinkle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find that when I find a cause so unique and significant as to stir my soul and incite my pursuit, I become rather indifferent towards any other,” he marveled, and Crowley didn’t know if there was a thing bigger than heaven, but if there was, it was what glimmered in deep cloudy pools of blue now as they looked at Crowley, the Omega’s fingers squeezing the Alpha’s hand in a desperate grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world fell away, the magnetic pull that had consumed him- every moment and every thought since he had met Lord Fell- soothed at last, leaving his heart stuttering in what he was sure was the absolute happiest and most profound moment of his twenty and eight years. The only thing that existed to him was that hand, keeping him from floating away, and that glorious scent, radiating of a honeyed tea more perfect than anything he could dream of brewing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His governess had imparted a thorough vocabulary upon him, but the only way he could possibly describe this moment was that it was- it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this what all those books had attempted to capture? This feeling that all those words had paled in comparison to?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this love? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You go too fast for me, Crowley. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory burnt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley snatched his hand from the Alpha’s grasp, turning away and wrapping his arms tightly around himself, as if there was a chance in Hell of protecting his heart now, after it had long since been plucked from his ribcage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment crashed down on him and panic set in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no slowing down, now. He’d been fooling himself to think there could have been.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just stay away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ha! An even more foolish thought! How could he stay away, when he’d finally found what he’d never known he was looking for? All those years, he’d thought he was looking for adventure. But it was this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- oh, I’m so terribly sorry…,” a wavering voice croaked out behind him, and at last Crowley realized that his was not the only scent reeking of devastation, “I’ve misunderstood-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t!” he blurted out, twisting on his heel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rush of warmth pooled in his face as he saw the surprise on Lord Fell’s face, and a bite of guilt bit at his innards at the watery glaze in those stunning eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I... haven’t?” the Alpha repeated, taking a hesitant step forward, his face the very depiction of hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Crowley laughed miserably, looking skyward and finding that unlike his counterpart, no celestial presence was looking back at him. He huffed, pacing in frustrated circles only fueled by the Alpha’s amusement before turning back and allowing himself one more outburst. Perhaps he might blame the alcohol- but how could he? He was rather prone to brutal honesties no matter his state of mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t- know- how to… how to do this!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few humorous expressions of confusion cycled across Lord Fell’s face. He turned slightly, eyes darting as he seemed to make a valiant attempt at translating Crowley’s meaning. He turned back, at a loss, “I’m sorry, my dear, I’m not sure I know your meaning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley sounded a frustrated growl, and this time the heat that pooled from his face was born of embarrassment and irritation as he found a very fond look on the Alpha’s face, as if his frustration was somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>precious. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What a bastard!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How to do what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shove off!” Crowley groused, and Lord Fell’s eyebrows shot up before he sounded a surprised laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what!” the Omega pouted, reverting to a childish defensiveness like he so often did when he didn’t understand his own feelings, when he didn’t get his way, when he wasn’t automatically understood. How might he possibly announce his controversial opinions when he couldn’t identify what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>were? </span>
  </em>
  <span>This Alpha confused him so much! Instilled so many ideas and feelings in his mind and his heart that Crowley couldn’t comprehend a single one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how to censor himself. How to say the right things. How to handle </span>
  <em>
    <span>caring </span>
  </em>
  <span>about the pressure to say the right things. He had certainly never felt the impulse before. The need to tip-toe as if around glass had always been an indicator that he might be better off leaving the situation and never looking back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not this time. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He would succeed in becoming the mate of this man or he would fail spectacularly in attempting. And now he was left, floundering to sort it all out because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alpha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his bloody fault!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” the Alpha mused, making a vigilant attempt at appearing serious, although an amused grin was playing at his mouth, “I don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” Crowley blustered out, pointing an accusatory finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Lord Fell repeated in intrigue, raising his hand to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to do-!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A series of strangled consonants fell from Crowley’s mouth for an infuriatingly long period of time as he paced before they died out in a frustrated whimper, and he slumped against the railing of the terrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flapped his elegant, long-fingered hand in a careless gesture at the Alpha and spat out an annoyed, “That! </span>
  <em>
    <span>This!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The overwhelmed Omega hid his face in his hands, scrubbing it as if he could somehow wash away the distress with his fingers alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for sometime, and then he breathed in that soothing scent. Worn leather, fresh parchment, black tea. Strong and steady. Absolutely unwavering. The best anchor he could ask for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With every breath, he took it in, and when he bared his face to the world again at last, feeling calmer, the Alpha was beside him; and how could he possibly feel afraid when that was the case?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell was leaned forward, looking at him with a kindness that near broke his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be sure what it is you believe I expect from you,” he said, and his voice was just as soft as all the right parts of him were, “But I urge you to understand that I don’t desire anything from you that you do not desire to give in equal earnest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley huffed a despairing laugh, fixing the ground with a forlorn glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the trouble. I can’t say the same, in turn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lord Omega did not spare a glance to the Alpha. He couldn’t possibly watch how the bearing of his soul might be received, and yet he knew the look of confusion that must reside on his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he closed his eyes, took a deep breath for resolve, leaned into the heavy influence of extraordinary amounts of alcohol, and did what he did best- imparted his opinion, regardless of how it might be received. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to handle being unsure of how easily your good opinion of me might shift,” he confessed at long last, ignoring the obnoxious, wounded, fearful whimper that slipped from his chest alongside it, “I know… I know you’ve been betrayed and mistreated and hurt but I don’t- I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hurt you. I wish to make you smile and laugh and feel comfortable being the bastard I see under all those layers of protective armor- and I wish to make you feel safe, like you did when we were together in the garden, and I wish to- to- to see if this can </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>something! So if you need time to process, I understand, but I can’t be who I’m not. I can’t pretend to feel less than I do out of courtesy for your comfort. I can’t be demure out of fear that you’ll lose affection for me when I’m intense- when I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>myself. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait for you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t a lie, was it? He would wait for a millennium or two or perhaps even six if he could come crashing into the Alpha’s arms at the end of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a grounding breath, angry at the vulnerability boiling up inside him, pouring over, hissing as it turned into scalding steam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>slow down, </span>
  </em>
  <span>angel. I’ve only one speed, and it would only be fair if that’s too fast for you. I am not some bloody delicate storybook Omega that’ll keel over and die from rejection. I know what I want and what I don’t, and I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want to wonder if I’ve even a chance or if I’m just- just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fooling </span>
  </em>
  <span>myself every time I see you huddled in a corner with another eligible Omega. So either you get on board now or you get off the tracks, but I insist that I am informed which it is you choose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was some time before he found the bravery to look at the Alpha, and what he found moved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was something deeply desired. Rarely gotten. Something he was sure was an impossibility, perhaps even just another one of his far-fetched fantasies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Respect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If possible, the affection he felt for the Alpha grew in intensity by threefold. Surely, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a fantasy, for only a story could feature an Omega telling an Alpha suitor off and the suitor feeling only stronger in their resolve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no desire for you to slow down,” Lord Fell said. His voice was so soft, quiet and urgent in equal measure, his gaze felt like sunshine on Crowley’s skin. Their eyes locked together, somehow more strongly than their fingers had only moments earlier. “I meant what I said the other day- that my fondness for you is increasing at an alarming rate. It occurs with every fact I discover about you, and I fear I haven’t been nearly as forward about it as I should be after the way I’ve scorned you. So if I might... I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed off the railing, looking ever so much as if he longed to step forward, to take Crowley into his soft, strong arms. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>how Crowley longed for that too. Instead, he pressed his palm over his own heart, delivering the most earnest expression Crowley had ever seen, and somehow, in a way he could not explain, Crowley </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I very much </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> your intensity, your volume, and your candor. I like your bravery and your sense of adventure. I like that you’re smug when you win and that you pout when you lose. I like making you so happy that you can’t help but bare your teeth or forget you shouldn’t in the first place. I like that you have no fear or trepidations about staring down an Alpha and telling them off, although I’m quite certain it might give me a heart attack someday. I like that you know how beautiful you are and that you flaunt it as if any Alpha on earth needs convincing. I like that you’ll befriend strange pup packs in the woods and come to the aid of serpents that have wandered astray. I like that incredible manner in which you are simultaneously awe-inspiringly strong and heart-wrenchingly soft. I like that I never need to guess how you’re feeling, because you’ll tell me. I like that you’ll make me perfectly aware of when I’m being a fool. I like that you make me feel safe, and I wish for nothing more than to make you feel safe too. And I-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I said you go too fast, but anything would feel as much after standing still for such a length of time. The blame rests squarely on my shoulders. I’ve been idling by for so long, waiting, and I didn’t know what for until I met you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley felt his heart unclench. His eyes went wide and soft, and a weak smile quirked at his mouth. No one had ever-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. No one had ever, and he wasn’t quite certain how to handle it. So he reverted to his default.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” he huffed, falling into his trusted instinct of acting sure of himself when he was the last thing but, “Well. Then. What do you propose?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord Fell gave him a knowing smile, and for the first time, Crowley didn’t feel angry or exposed that someone had seen straight through his act. In fact, he rather liked the fact that this Alpha truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you be amenable to picking up where we left off? Perhaps writing, again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were he not so swept up in the magic of the moment, Crowley might be annoyed at how fastidiously he melted at the request. Instead, his lips spread into a soft smile, and he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that very much,” he said before an overdue grin of mischief captured his expression, “but only if you write me great professions of admiration with those pretty words of yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel laughed, and it did the same strange and delightful thing to Crowley’s heart as every time he managed to inspire such a reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally. It’s certainly no chore. You’ve many admirable qualities, you enjoy being told, and I enjoy telling you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Crowley felt his face heat, and he looked down at his hands, stifling a smile as butterflies burst through his stomach. It was so strange, these feelings. No wonder love was notorious for making people do such nonsensical things- like pulling away just as someone came close, or fearing disinterest when the Alpha in question orbited him religiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a messy start they’d had- but at long last, Crowley found himself perfectly content with it. Love was a messy thing- he’d heard as much time and time again, and it appeared to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the meantime,” The Alpha grumbled in a playful voice, “I believe I still owe you my embarrassment on behalf of your amusement.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That delirious happiness flushed through Crowley yet again. If this was all some wonderful dream, he had stern words for whatever being ruled the cosmos, if any. He turned to give the Alpha a grin that was far too inspired to tamper down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’ve thought of something good,” he teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should think so,” Lord Fell hummed, rounding Crowley and reaching out a hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega had been so distracted by his company, he hadn’t noticed the soft sounds of a distant waltz start up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might I have your hand for this dance, my fair Lord Omega?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley barked out a laugh, unable to contain his enthusiasm as he relented his gloved fingers, allowing himself to be guided to the center of the terrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grin faded, but only because a feeling he’d never once experienced in relation to an Alpha ripped through him like a wildfire as Lord Fell’s hand pressed to his waist and he was drawn in close. It turned his skin to gooseflesh, a feeling of tightness growing low and hot in his belly, and he suppressed a shudder, biting his lip. All at once he found himself quite more vulnerable to the effects of the spirits he’d consumed earlier. He felt light on his feet as he was maneuvered, surrendering his complete trust to the angel without a moment’s consideration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nothing like the feeling of hiding in the gardens and sharing secret kisses with Oliver Westin. It was something infinitely more powerful. Something that shook him to his core and left him changed, somehow. There was a truth about it that was just out of grasp, and Crowley had never had much patience for leaving questions unanswered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No comment, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped out of his hypnosis, heat rushing to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said, you called me angel again, before. Should you truly suggest I’ve misheard twice, now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Crowley stuck his nose in the air, looking at the angel out of the corner of slitted eyes, “I’m sure you’re imagining things. Too much alcohol, I presume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” the Alpha laughed, his smile easily the most intoxicating thing Crowley had consumed all night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega hummed in response, features softening as he tilted his chin down and looked at Lord Fell through his lashes, getting lost in the pleasure of admiring the beautiful Alpha holding him in his arms. Lord Fell looked back, and Crowley wondered if he’d always gazed at him in such a fashion- with the most besotted expression the Omega had ever witnessed. He smelled as good as ever, but now he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Crowley was fading fast to the temptation to lunge forth, to smear his cheek against the Alpha’s scent gland, spreading that intoxicating oil all over his face, wearing it like a badge of honor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, he wondered what it might be like to be bond marked- chemically bound to a single Alpha for life. Never before might he have imagined there was joy to be found in such a concept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then the expression faded, and blue eyes veered off, lost in what the Omega assumed to be solemn thought. Regrets, already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley frowned, wondering what was amiss, how he had misstepped. It was only once he saw Lord Fell’s lips moving in a pattern, his eyes occasionally darting to their feet, and he heard the music playing in the distance. They weren’t off rhythm, per se, but they were going at an agonizingly slow half speed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>counting?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he asked in delight, smirking at his dance partner’s expense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you I was wretched at this!” the Alpha huffed, and Crowley decided then and there that he quite fancied seeing him so flustered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Omega sounded a hearty laugh, and the Lord Alpha only had a moment to pout before Crowley rearranged their arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to lead?” Lord Fell asked incredulously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley rolled his eyes, sounding an unflattering snort, and he was surprised to find the Alpha to be enamored with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes, can you imagine the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>scandal </span>
  </em>
  <span>if all these people saw that? The gossip would never end!” he exclaimed theatrically, sweeping his arm in a grand display of the empty lawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have it on good authority that it’s haunted,” the angel teased in a mumble, a bashful expression fixed on his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley could have staggered at the preciousness of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then shall we scandalize some spirits?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a true delight to watch the Alpha flush as Crowley rested his hand on his waist. The thickness there was nearly just as soft as he imagined, though he might have fainted as he felt the muscles flexing beneath his fingers to be much more prominent than he had initially assumed by his figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” he purred, and like magic, he did, the tension beneath his fingers easing into a plush softness he wanted nothing more than to cuddle against. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bit awkward at first, but with some slight teasing and gentle encouragement, the Omega got them up to tempo, finding the Alpha had given himself far too little credit, as he mirrored his steps perfectly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too fast?” Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” he was answered, “But I am determined to keep up, even if there’s sure to be some stumbling involved.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked up, ready to deliver a cheeky grin, but upon discovering himself to be the recipient of a deep, longing gaze, he realized the context was much greater than a private (and scandalously unchaperoned) dance on an empty terrace with next to no music. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would follow me?” he asked, finding himself trembling in anticipation for the answer, his silk-clad fingers squeezing the angel’s bare ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his breath, waiting for a reminder that they were not yet courting, that he was owed nothing, that he was expecting far too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he saw the sweetest smile he’d ever been lucky enough to find himself the recipient of.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anywhere you want to go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sometimes these lovesick losers write themselves, I s2g, they take absolutely everything to an eleven whenever I leave them alone together 😭❤️ </p><p>I wanted to try to hold onto this longer, but I'm about to spend the remainder of my weekend packing up everything I own (ugh) and thought it might fortify my spirits to share with you lovely people. </p><p>Some amount of the next chapter will be a montage, including some highlights of their letters (but not the entirety of their letters bc bitches be wordy) and little events that have occurred since the ball. It will not be a direct continuation of this night. </p><p>As always, thank you for your support! It means everything to me ❤️❤️❤️ I honestly re-read the comments whenever I need a little pick me up. I appreciate you all so much, and it's such a delight to share this story with you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which our little lovebird Lords attempt to get on without one another’s company and fail miserably</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale loved literature. A more obvious statement would likely remain unfound even if the entire world were to be scavenged for one. His eagerness to indulge in language was only met with an equal fastidiousness by the enjoyment of fine cuisines (or admittedly, more carnal acts). The Alpha had a propensity for writing love poems anywhere he could manage- on paper or in his head- in an endless, unstoppable stretch when he found himself enamored with an Omega- and never <em> had </em>he found himself more enamored than he was presently. </p><p>As much as he was one with such a fervor for prose, he’d always had a distaste for cliches. They didn’t do justice to the great, influential topics to which they belonged, in his mind. They were far too oversimplified. Untrue. </p><p>Therefore he was remiss to find himself falling over one proverb far too vast in its honesty for him to possibly maintain his universal opinion:</p><p>Absence really did make the heart grow fonder. </p><p>Crowley was writing nearly every day, and Aziraphale found joy in meeting the pace just as fastidiously. Seeing as the post’s travel time from Sussex to Sutherland was three days in the best of weather, the pair were juggling a myriad of conversations all at once. At times they would allow the other to catch up, blissfully taking up the time with silly, imaginative fantasies or ridiculous accounts of trouble making on Crowley’s part. For Aziraphale’s contribution, he would fill pages upon pages with pretty poems and prose, or rambles about his studies, invigorated in any new topic or book. </p><p>And the Omega would <em> read </em> them, truly. There was no skimming, as he would inevitably bring up some miniscule detail a dozen letters later. It would be so thoughtful a response the Alpha would be left with no doubt that it was evidence Crowley had <em> researched </em> the topics he had presented. Aziraphale was unsure- no, that wasn’t right- he was <em> certain </em>that no one had ever taken care to listen in such a manner, much less engage. No one had ever taken such an eager investment in knowing him, or opening themselves up for him to know them in turn. </p><p>With every teasing little quip at his expense (somehow having just as charming an effect, despite the delayed delivery) he found himself aching for the clever glimmer in mismatched eyes. For every compliment he knew might make the Omega preen, he longed for the pleased little chirp he’d grown to fall in love with and the near imperceptible twitch at his mouth- the smile he always attempted to stifle and yet every time, without fail, would grow into a wide, wild, teeth-baring grin. And for every painful truth he shared, he wished for slender, long fingers to be clasped tightly in his own strong grip, for the beautiful, comforting scent of herbs and honey that was only scarcely smudged beneath his signature, as had become custom. </p><p>It was agony and bliss, married together. Standing still wasn’t what he had promised, nor was it what he wanted, truly. He wanted Anthony Crowley, he wanted to make him happy and soothe his hurts and to woo him incomparably through courtship, proving himself to be a viable Alpha to choose as a lifelong mate, but the distance fostered a sense of safety, and that safety was intoxicating. </p><p>Still, he knew exactly what to expect of the arrangement he had opted to partake in, and so it mightn’t have surprised him when the letter he faithfully received one Tuesday afternoon was bound to a small package. </p><p>He read the letter first, of course (he wasn’t an animal), and found it did not address the item sent with it in any involved way. Instead, it contained two pages contributing to their month-long debate on the best British fiction writer (the topic had only averted being brought to a close due to Crowley’s opinion on the matter changing weekly, at least), three pages listing the hysterical hijinks he’d been up to, the obligatory page and a half detailing the extents of his seemingly never-ending boredom, and four pages of all the adventures he was determined that he and Aziraphale must go on together, if only in his dreams. </p><p>On the center of the last page, a lovely drawing was etched, just as there had been for every letter thus far without fail. It would depict something different each day, always tinted with the fantastical lens through which Aziraphale had learned Crowley viewed the world and all its contents. This time it depicted a fat, happy cat. According to a short note, the feline was Crowley’s favorite kitchen mouser, Nutmeg, and the Omega had snuck her into his den where she had happily found a spot to curl up on a cushioned bench in front of a stained glass window. </p><p>The cat’s ears featured an artistic little curl at their tips, and while the drawing was not colored, the window was indeed tinged with dramatic little elements that made it something beautiful. The diamond pattern he imagined must be perfectly geometric and precise in reality was instead wavered just so, giving the impression of depicting flora, were one to tilt their head and squint. </p><p>There was something lovely about it- about a brilliant, sweet person who, instead of shutting down in the face of a world that disappointed him endlessly with its ugliness and unfairness, used their imagination to see the beauty and magic of it all. </p><p>Aziraphale was smiling, his strong heartbeat pounding in his ears as loudly as it did when he was with the Omega, dancing alone on a balcony in the dark, following the best he could. Even from so far away Crowley had the capability of driving him wild in a manner that not one soul ever had. </p><p>Remembering his quest, his eyes dropped to the bottom of the page, finding a <em> very </em>cheeky signature and a postscript that contained the only reference of the mystery package in the entire letter. </p><p><em> Yours, should you ever get around to asking. Not like I’m waiting or anything. I’ve loads of things to do here in the middle of nowhere (north of nowhere, to be precise, which is doubly nowhere by my maths) with my troves of company (it’s Bentley. Bentley is the company. And Nutmeg. See? </em> <em> Two </em> <em> friends. Look how popular I am!) and bountiful entertainment (although Hastur broke the piano in a puplike tantrum only a day ago, and Apa took my paints away after I decided the front door could look a touch more inviting). So, here I am with no time to think of you at all. Perhaps I should be too busy to be yours even if you should ask.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Fine- you’ve figured me out: I should never be too busy for you, nor for unrelenting thoughts of you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours, needless of any question to make it so,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -C </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> PS- I’ve been meaning to return this to you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Out of equal parts habit and longing, he lifted the page to his nose, and was sorry to fail in finding any of Crowley’s beautiful scent. </p><p>Aziraphale forgot about the package for a second time before reading the postscript, rather enchanted by the letter’s rambling close. He carefully tucked it back into its envelope, eager to add it to the steadily growing collection of letters from the Omega who possessed him. </p><p>The package was a very little thing, the same size as the letter itself. He wondered what Crowley might have possibly attained that Aziraphale had left with him. It was a marked relief from the original concern that it could contain a gift. Such a gesture from an Omega to an Alpha was frowned upon outside of strictly platonic relations or marriage, though there was an allowance made when the gift was edible in nature (exhibiting a propensity for nourishing care that was attractive when seeking a mate) or when an Omega had decided their suitor was taking too long. The latter remained a gesture that indicated interest at a much louder volume than their tedious society ever permitted them to speak it. If gone ignored long without the returned gift signifying the beginning of a courtship, an Omega would likely submit to the resignation that they were simply being led on and not a serious contender for the position of a mate. </p><p>And how could he ever stand to allow Crowley to linger with the worries that his precious feelings were only Aziraphale’s playthings? </p><p>He pulled the string of the letter, minding how meticulously the package was wrapped and unfolding it on the desk until he stared, perplexed, down at the little folded bit of fabric amongst the folds of the brown paper. A bit of a whimper sounded as he exhaled, believing that perhaps his relief had come too soon. With trembling hands, he retrieved delicate pale blue fabric, unfolding and sounding a soft gasp. </p><p>It was his favorite handkerchief- the very one he had long since accepted had been destroyed by Adam’s dog that day in the wood near Anathema’s manor. The tears in the fabric were gone, replaced by intricate sprawling embroidery of a painstaking craftsmanship. It was nothing so overbearing, flashy, or obvious, not gaudy in the slightest. It wasn’t nearly extravagant enough to be owned by Crowley, but it was, truly, befitting of Aziraphale’s tastes. </p><p>The embellishments were slight but delicate little specks of different herbs, depicted in light grey, tan, and white threads. True to form, they had the most fascinating perspective to their shape and pattern, something enchanting and artistic though he could not name what it was. Lovely little books took the place of tears that were too large to be rescued by the flora. On one corner, the one that had suffered the most at the fangs of Dog, a pair of white, beautiful angel’s wings were sewn, perfectly framing a bright, flaming sword.</p><p>He smiled broadly, forgetting every bit of his anxiety, just as he was always prone to do when he was wholly consumed by the presence of or words of or scent of or <em> thoughts </em> of the Omega. Aziraphale had eased his embarrassment over revealing the nickname he favored for him, in one letter, by insisting that he <em> was </em>named after an angel. Crowley had responded cheekily by insisting that he wouldn’t know, as Bible stories only ever served to put a terrible damper on things. It appeared he had braved them, anyway, to seek out the angel Aziraphale. </p><p>Then Aziraphale realized his heart was performing that very strange feat it only did when he smelled Crowley’s scent- that odd thing where it would sooth over like a gentle tide and race faster than any horse he’d ever ridden all at once. As he brought the handkerchief to his nose and inhaled deeply, his eyes welled with tears. </p><p>Oh, he was done for. He wasn’t sure he was any more thrilled with the wait than Crowley was, and yet here he was, selfishly tormenting them both by dragging his feet. </p><p>In this moment, he couldn’t be too angry with himself. He couldn’t feel a single bad thing, really. He was delightfully whisked into a world so beautiful it could only exist in fantasies, one of herbs and honey and that intoxicating lavender that only ever presented itself when the Omega was at his most relaxed. The lovely gift had been scented quite thoroughly, far from the risk of losing the aroma. It seemed likely that Crowley had taken to sleeping with it to ensure it was so, explaining the relaxing wonder of the scent he was sure Crowley would emanate only his sweetest dreams. </p><p>Aziraphale was wracked with another wave of emotion as he realized that the precious item could be considered either a gift or a return of his property, as he liked, and he hadn’t a single doubt that such a suggestion was entirely intentional, at least not when the thoughtful, darling Omega had been the one to send it. For having only one speed, he was so beautifully respectful of Aziraphale’s stumbling after, no matter how cheeky his written words were. </p><p>“Is that a ‘Get-On-With-It’ gift? Really? My son, and here I thought you were too proper to let an Omega get to the point of pining.”</p><p>Aziraphale nearly jumped out of his skin, blushing as he threw a sheepish gaze up at his Apa, fully dressed in her filthy riding gear with a delighted, fanged grin of utter intrigue spreading across her face. She carelessly tossed her top hat onto a settee, making her way over to the desk and collapsing lazily into the armchair beside it, sprawled out with her knees spread wide.</p><p>“Bossy little thing, eh? Seems he takes after Lilith after all,” she mused, the wicked grin not wavering for a moment, “Which means he will prolong your punishment for a lifetime, should you refrain from giving him what he wants.”</p><p>The younger Alpha huffed, unable to fidget with his waistcoat or worry his hands or fuss about with the papers, as any of the options would involve setting the handkerchief down, and he simply hadn’t the heart. </p><p>“Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been unfair to him, letting myself get hung up licking old wounds.”</p><p>“Ensuring they’ll never heal- or some rubbish like that. Your Ama would know.” </p><p>“Indeed, so perhaps I should seek out <em> his </em>advice.” </p><p>His Apa sounded an amused snort, lazily dropping her sharp cheek onto her palm, “Really. Wooin’ Omegas? Granted, your Ama is much more knowledgable than me, but in this one instance, I must insist that I’m the scholar.” </p><p>Aziraphale grumbled, only heightening his Apa’s amusement. She did have a point. He’d never met such a ferocious flirt of an Alpha- nor such a <em> successful </em>one at that. </p><p>“Perhaps you’ve a point, Apa, but then there’s the matter that I’ve already wooed him. It’s winning him that’s the worry, and last I checked, you’ve only made it to that finish line once.” </p><p>“That’s right. You’ll recall, smartarse little Lord, that I won it in record’s time, and it was the only race I ever cared to run, anyway. Only one <em> worth </em> running, really.” </p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes. He’d realized sometime around twenty-three that he would never learn to tolerate the blinding, deafening, shameless, foolish love his Apa held for his Ama and wore proudly as if it were a badge of honor. It was nice, he knew, and his Ama was more deserving of it than any other Omega on earth, but he couldn’t imagine being possessed to make such a complete buffoon himself over an Omega-</p><p>Not until now, anyway, he marveled, starkly recalling riding a horse through the highland terrain in his mourning jacket and slacks, crying like a pup on a garden bench, and dancing skillessly on a dark empty terrace only to submit to being led. </p><p>“So it was easier for you. There was never anyone else,” he snipped, unsure if he was arguing with his Apa or himself. </p><p>“There were, actually. Dozens, perhaps hundreds-”</p><p>“You’re a dog, Apa,” Aziraphale grumbled, rolling his eyes. </p><p>She barrelled on, the censure only seeming to encourage her, “but they didn’t count. Not really. Not in a way that mattered.” </p><p>It seemed an atrocious sentiment, really. </p><p>“And how was Ama different?” </p><p>The shameless grin softened, and Celeste tilted her head, “Is Lord Anthony so similar to Raphael? Or to Malachi?” </p><p>“Heavens no!” Aziraphale scoffed. Perhaps on the surface, there were similarities. Crowley and Raphael were indeed both vain and flighty, flirtatious and charismatic, but for Crowley such traits were only the armor used to protect the soft, beautiful, delicate true form that lay beneath. </p><p>“Right, and does he make you feel the same?” </p><p><em> Of course not, </em> Aziraphale wished to shout, <em> No one has ever made me feel as he does. No one’s ever made me feel as if perhaps I never knew myself before I met them.  </em></p><p>Instead, he was quiet, lips tensing into a thin line as he released a shoddy exhale through his nose and gazed out the window. </p><p>“But how did you <em> know?” </em>he asked, feeling as if perhaps that was the question that lay at the heart of it. </p><p>“Didn’t. Couldn’t. Didn’t know a damn thing any more. Brain scuttled straight out me bloody head the second I saw him.” </p><p>“Quite,” he snipped, “Seems it’s yet to come back.” </p><p>His Apa laughed and extended a foot, smearing the mud from the sole of her boot onto Aziraphale’s trousers and delighting as he grumbled and shoved it away, fussing over the stain there. </p><p>She smirked, crooning, “Ahhh, pot-kettle, little lord. Swear I’ve seen your brain oozin’ out the cracks for months now, and that’s the trouble, isn’t it? Why you’re traipsing about? You can’t use what you don’t have, Aziraphale. For once in your life, you need to trust your bloody guts, and you <em> must </em> have acquired even a <em> bit </em>of mine?” </p><p>“I- that’s- it’s not-,” he stammered, though upon finding himself truly void of any true excuse, he huffed, collapsing back into his own chair. </p><p>Of all the things in his world, he wasn’t sure he loathed anything more than admitting that his Apa was right. She was so loud, so crass, so shameless and reckless. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she’d sired him at all, but just when it might be so easy to write her off as the worst kind of Alpha- the ones that acted like the world was theirs and didn’t care for consequences and ran buck wild, loving every moment of it- she would reveal some hidden wit, the intelligence and consideration that was buried under so very many layers. </p><p>And alas- she <em> was </em>correct. For once, Aziraphale could not find his safety in the logic of his books or his mind. There were no guarantees. No warranties. Choosing a mate was a risk, and for however much he loathed to do so, he would have to trust his instincts- the ones that had been tearing him apart, aching to break into a sprint while his silly logic kept him locked on to a snail’s pace. </p><p>“Smart lad,” she teased with that unrelenting grin, “So then, when are you asking?” </p><p>He huffed in defeat, removing his spectacles and tossing them on the edge of the desk to rub the bridge of his nose, “When I see him next, I imagine, though I’ve nothing for him yet.” </p><p>“And when is that?” </p><p>“I’m not sure. I suppose I should get permission before getting his hopes up by making plans.” </p><p>“You ‘aven’t even asked his Apa yet?! No wonder the poor pup’s getting impatient! If you’re waiting for a formal invitation, I think you’ve got it right there!” she marveled, swatting her hand in a vague gesture toward the handkerchief, “What are you waiting for, anyway?” </p><p>“Well, I was… rather hoping I might gain some favor with his Apa, first.” </p><p>A long snort sounded at that, and his own Apa arched a dark eyebrow.</p><p>“Mean old Lord Sutherland, eh? Can’t fault you for fearing him, suppose that’s your smarts working for you, no matter how well your old Apa taught you to fight,” she teased. </p><p>He gave a bit of a sheepish shrug, feeling caught. Naturally, it was good sense. Lucius Crowley had been most gracious when Aziraphale had visited despite the stories he’d heard, but he since then, Aziraphale had decided to court his son and done the appropriate research, accordingly. It took only the slightest bit of searching to surmise that had he not been known as the Earl of Sutherland first and foremost, he might have been known as the Dominant Alpha of the most powerful crime network in Britain. His “investments” were wide reaching and all of a rather vague nature (many of them in importation), and any soul who had ever cheated, stolen, or crossed the man had either suffered unfortunate incidents or were absolutely untrackable thereafter. It was not lost on Aziraphale that one or two of these names involved Alphas who had previously courted Lord Anthony. But of course, Lord Sutherland <em> was </em> a powerful member of the peerage, which made finding any further or more detailed information a near impossibility. </p><p>Of course he was afraid to make himself known to the man, but he was positive Crowley wasn’t aware of his own Apa’s activities, living in a dream world as he did. </p><p>“That said,” his own Apa interrupted his thoughts, “you’re just going to have to decide if Anthony is worth the risk. I don’t think anyone in the world has ever <em> gained </em>the favor of Lucius Crowley, save for his Omega, and I’ll tell you what, Aziraphale: if there’s any to be had, you’re losing it the longer you yank his poor little pup along. So tell me, is he worth it?” </p><p>“Of course,” Aziraphale breathed, not thinking the slightest about it. Oh dear. If he’d gained his ‘intellect’ from his Ama, it appeared he had taken on his Apa’s bad habit of throwing caution to the wind for an Omega who had stolen his heart away. Evidently, he’d inherited some of her ‘guts’ after all. </p><p>“Good. Then get on with it.” </p><p>“Right,” he said, taking a fortifying breath, “I suppose I will.”</p><p>“Marvelous,” she hummed, looking far too pleased with herself, “And what are you getting him as a courtship gift?” </p><p>“Oh, just the usual one, I suppose,” he said half-mindedly, searching through the desk drawers for paper and envelopes. </p><p>His Apa’s groan distracted him, and he frowned up at her attentively. </p><p>“That’s so <em> impersonal, </em>Aziraphale. Courtship is about winning him over, you really want to kick it off with a dud?” </p><p>“It’s traditional…,” he argued, though his confidence on the matter was waning. It was rather expected to give an Omega a scented shawl upon proposing a courtship. </p><p>“And how moved he shall be by your thoughtfulness, after you grab the most expensive available shawl from some prepared assortment in a random London shop. So very personal.  I’m sure he shall feel truly seen, appreciated, known, and wanted,” she droned with a roll of her eyes. </p><p>Aziraphale’s stomach dropped, heavy stones of dread rolling about. He’d certainly never thought about it in such a light. When had his Apa become so insightful? It seemed his life had been turned on its head all at once, these days. </p><p>“Oh none of that fussin’. You can give one to him as a later courtship gift, after you know him well enough to pick him something fitting and give him a good reason to miss you that your scent can soothe him through,” she grinned, “Just think on it, son. You’ll come up with something properly romantic.” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * * </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 27th October 1902 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Lord Sutherland,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I am writing to humbly request that you might grant your permission in my asking your son, Lord Anthony, to accept an extension of courtship.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I acknowledge that we are not well acquainted, and I profess that I fully understand should you require better acquaintance before granting me your answer.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Should you agree, I am eager and willing to meet any terms you should establish. I have the utmost respect for the Crowley pack, for your lordship, and for your son. Lord Anthony is most intelligent, kind, and remarkable in nature. This is a testament, I am certain, to both your and your Lady Omega’s best natures. If my request is one you find impossible to entertain a moment longer, I admit my deep disappointment, but I find my remorse in such an event should only be secondary to that of a reality in which I did not make a proper attempt at initiating a courtship.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Allow me to address any preliminary concerns you might have of my capabilities to provide as an Alpha and to share the contents of my character, should you be so gracious as to humor me. My Apa, Lady Sussex, has readily prepared me for my future role as Earl of Sussex, and I’ve begun to take on her duties in meetings with our estate’s agent and lawyer over the last four years, turning a better profit for each quarter with less requests of the tenants than there had been in the last. The security of our county’s future is promising, as we are projected to continue with our success despite the changing climate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Continuing on to personal matters- I graduated top of my class at the University of Oxford and have made fervent endeavors to supplement my education in the time since I have left. Admittedly, I am not as social a creature as your son, but I do not allow my disposition to diminish in even the most displeasing of situations. I am able to navigate conversation competently and my hackles do not rise easily. This is not to say I am incapable or inadequate in physical altercations. I regularly practice fencing and on occasion partake in wrestling matches at varying Alphas’ social clubs, where I proceed to final rounds a fair bit more often than I do not.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I shall not pretend I am very seasoned in matters involving those of the fairest dynamic. I have always held great respect for Omegas, and I am not intimidated by the idea of being partnered with one that matches or very possibly exceeds my own intelligence. I only pursue courtship when I am of the utmost earnestness in my affections, and I can only hope you believe my sincere desire to prove myself as a worthy Alpha to both you and Lord Anthony.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Please do not hesitate to lodge any questions or requests you may have of me, I am most determined to assuage any concerns. Should you grant my request and should Lord Anthony give me his consent to court, I shall abide by any rules or limitations you wish to emplace. I should thank you if you were to send them in response and provide a time in which I might meet with Lord Anthony to extend a gift.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sincerely, </em>
</p><p><em> Lord Aziraphale Fell </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Viscount Whitefeather </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 31st October 1902 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lord Fell,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You have my permission. Meet him at your leisure and discretion, though I do not encourage you to wait long. Anthony, when not given as he desires, develops an unrelenting determination to drive the culprit responsible for withholding from him to the brink of madness.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’s quite good at it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Good luck. I’m sure you’ll need it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sincerely, </em>
</p><p><em> Lord Lucius Crowley </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Earl of Sutherland  </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><br/>
It was a Friday. The weather wasn’t terrible, for November in the Highlands. Crowley had finally received a shipment from his tailor including numerous gorgeous pieces for his winter wardrobe. He’d gotten a letter from Aziraphale first thing in the morning. It had been perfect, with little tinges of bastard and with more than a touch of devastating romance. </p><p>Altogether, it was turning out to be a rather lovely day, but for the first time since they had begun exchanging letters, a frown crossed Crowey’s face as his mismatched eyes hit the very last words of the letter. He reread it thrice, flipping the pages over and scanning the margins in one final desperate attempt to find what he knew the letter did not contain. With a huff, he folded it, jamming it back into the envelope and shoving it into the box devoted to hoarding away all the letters he’d received from the only angel he believed in. </p><p>Perhaps the day was lovely, but it was also <em> the same. </em>Always the same. The same dirty looks from Hastur the moment he recalled Anthony’s existence. The same dull chattering over business that passed between Beatrix and his Apa. The same lack of escape without his Ama there to stop them and no company to entertain himself with but his intolerable Beta brother’s.</p><p>In the late morning, he and his Ama took to the garden to paint together, but after staring at the canvas for a stretch of time that only served to make his emotions boil, he returned to the castle, shrugging off his mother’s worried inquiries after him. </p><p>None of it made sense. He’d seen the letter addressed to his father from Lord Fell nearly an entire month earlier. Peter, the first footman, had been in the midst of bringing the mail up from downstairs when Crowley had pounced him, insisting on ruffling through the letters and reading the envelopes (such an occurrence had become a practiced dance between them). Recognizing Lord Fell’s hand so easily, he’d nearly taken the letter before spotting his Apa’s name listed as the recipient. </p><p>Later that day, he’d seen his Apa post a letter in turn. </p><p>His fingers rested on the doorknob to his den just as the realization struck him in its full power. </p><p>Lord Aziraphale Fell, Viscount Whitefeather- one of the most refined, polite, respectable, intelligent Alphas in high society- had asked to court him. His father had said no. </p><p>Blinded by seething anger, the Omega turned starkly on his foot and marched away from his den. By the time his mind had succeeded in meeting the pace of his ridiculous, emotionally-driven impulses, he had thrown open the door to his Apa’s study, planted his feet in the center of the room, and begun to gesture wildly as he lost control over any of the very little inhibition he had attained within his nearly twenty-nine years. </p><p>“Tell me, Apa, shall my punishment know no bloody end? Shall my entire future be spoiled because of a mistake I made nearly a decade ago? Am I doomed to live a lifetime in the middle of nowhere, aging into a lonesome spinster with no pack nor pups nor mate to speak of and no future? Why keep me around? Should it not be simpler to throw me to the dogs and leave me to my own devices? Or might I be shackled to the floor of my damned bedroom, kept from living, from speaking, from any personal freedom that even the most sheltered Omegas might attain? I most certainly-”</p><p>By a deeply ingrained instinct that made him seethe all on its own, Crowley fell into silence as his Apa swatted his hand at him in a vague gesture. The Omega huffed, biting his cheek and looking on with a raging expression that likened a pout far more than any effective glower. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides</p><p>“As much as I enjoy becoming the audience of your dramatics, Anthony, I should like to know what I’ve done to deserve such a treat,” he drawled. </p><p>The tall, dark, menacing man leaned back in his chair, appearing far more exhausted than dangerous as he removed his reading glasses and rubbed idly at a temple with his fingertips. </p><p>Crowley sounded an obstinate scoff. </p><p>“You know quite well!” </p><p>“Remind me, anyhow.” </p><p>“Lord Fell sent you a letter asking your permission to court me and you said no!” </p><p>The exhaustion transcended into a mild amusement, far more than was common to find on his Apa’s expression. Black brows raised at him, dark golden eyes addressing him at last. </p><p>“And tell me, little pup, how have you come to this conclusion?” </p><p>Crowley shifted on his feet, feeling unsure of himself for the first time since initiating his tantrum.</p><p>No, he was right. He had to be. </p><p>He huffed starkly out his nostrils, pushing back his shoulders and standing his ground, pretending the determined defiance didn’t simply amuse his father further. </p><p>“I saw he addressed a letter to you, Apa, and I saw that you put a reply in the post!” </p><p>His Apa took a deep, contemplative breath, tossing his pen down on the desk and slumping down on the armrests of his chair. </p><p>“Say I shall entertain this scenario- how is it that you’re so certain of my answer?” </p><p>Another firm blow to his certainty. Crowley was helpless but to stammer for a moment, smoothing out his skirts before announcing with a confidence markedly less convincing than the last he’d feigned, “I’ve received a letter from him every day since then, and not one of them has posed a question or arrived alongside a package.” </p><p>His father’s brows slowly lowered, his mouth remaining a flat line, but somehow even with the nearly imperceptible change, Crowley was well aware that the expression had shifted from amusement into anger. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ducking his head at last to stare at the floor. He smelled his own scent grow charred with the anxiety. </p><p>It was never a good thing, angering his father, and it was a fact he would so inconveniently forget until his mouth had already run away from him. He couldn’t surmise what he had possibly done to upset his Apa, thistime. Had it been mentioning the frequency of his writing? He’d hardly kept it a secret. He was so overflowing with affection for the Alpha, he had chased after the company of any party willing to listen- and perhaps some that were less than willing. </p><p>“Satan, I must’ve let some rotten wee bastards have their chance with you,” he grumbled unhappily under his breath. </p><p>Crowley was thrown off balance with the relief that struck him upon realizing that, as a rare treat, it was not he who appeared to be the catalyst for his Apa’s irritation. He chanced a curious glance up at his father, who was looking at him with a disgruntled frown. </p><p>“I’m not sure I know your meaning, Apa.” </p><p>With a long sigh, Lucius leaned forward to lace his hands over the desk and lodge Crowley with a firm look. </p><p>“Anthony, no Alpha worth their salt would initiate a courtship over the bloody post, and it’s frowned upon to make such a journey without any other excuse for an incentive given, as such a venture could unfairly pressure an Omega into consenting purely out of consideration,” he mused, tacking on, “should courtship be the scenario at hand, anyway.” </p><p>Crowley’s heart fluttered in his chest. Of <em> course! </em>Of course Lord Fell might be so considerate as to ask in person, when he could present a gift properly and spare him from any ‘pressure’ despite Crowey’s constant declarations of his wishes. He was going to ask. He was truly going to ask!</p><p>The Omega remained unaware that his scent had flourished with giddiness, that he was standing in the middle of his Apa’s study, biting his lip and grinning like an idiot, only barely keeping from bouncing on his toes. It was only when his father spoke that he started out of his joyous trance.</p><p>“Does that close the curtains on this performance, little pup, or should you have another act at your disposal?” </p><p>“No no, that’s all for today- unless Hastur wishes to initiate an improvisational show, of course” Crowley quipped with a smirk, giving a coy curtsey and testing his luck, “you’re truly the best Apa in the world, have I told you?” </p><p>“I could stand to hear it more often,” his Apa grumbled, appearing unconvinced as he replaced his reading spectacles and poured himself back over his work. </p><p>Crowley stopped at the doorway, leaning in with his hand on the frame, “Apa?”</p><p>“Hm?” the Alpha grunted again, peering at him from over the frames of his spectacles. </p><p>“Just out of curiosity- in this hypothetical, am I to assume you’d have given your consent?” </p><p>If he wasn’t imagining things, a smirk was playing at his Apa’s lips. </p><p>“A bhobain,” he addressed Crowley in a deadpan. </p><p>“Yes?” the Omega chirped eagerly, leaning into the room with a devilish, excited grin. </p><p>“Away with ye.” </p><p>As Anthony slithered from the doorway and down the hallway, he failed miserably in stifling his ecstatic smile, and if he gave a few twirls or tilted a few paintings off kilter as he went, no one could be any the wiser. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 18th November 1902 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My Dear Lord Fell, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It should be proper for me to apologize for sending a second letter in one day, but such a sentiment could hardly be authentic. As I’m sure you well know, I am not one to tamp down my curiosity on the occasion that it arises, and I have a question for you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> My birthday is the second of December, and I find myself very eager for it despite the dread of creeping closer to thirty. Every year, I am permitted to attend the arts festival in Edinburgh, where there is a great gathering of artists, inventors, writers, musicians and scholars. There is an academic element about it, but due to the event’s status as a festival, Omegas are permitted to attend the galleries, markets, and concerts. My Ama and I both enjoy art and music nearly more than anything else, although I shouldn’t ever be able to do it properly. It is one of the few opportunities I should have, outside of social season, to break away from the isolation of the Highlands and rejoin the land of the living.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I admit I have not partaken in the literary events as I am not welcome nor am I knowledgeable enough, I’m afraid, being censored as I am from much of the content I imagine is discussed at such gatherings. However I was curious as to if you might be familiar with this event, and I should be very remiss indeed should I discover you had attended and I had missed my chance to monopolize your company.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The festival begins on Saturday the twenty-ninth of November and runs through Saturday the sixth of December, though I am certain you might be well aware of this, should I be lucky enough to learn that you’ve planned on attending.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I shall be in Edinburgh through the tenth. I do hope to see you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours, enthusiastically,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -C </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> * * *  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 21st November 1902 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> My dearest Crowley, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You may send me a dozen letters a day, should you like, and find no complaint from me. It allows me to pretend, when my imagination is a fraction as kind as yours, that our conversations might liken those we are granted in person.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With that remarkable imagination you harbor, I would ask you to spin up some wonderful sentiment that is both clever and appropriate for me to write here. Such a sentiment should include the notion that I have had plans to attend Edinburgh’s arts festival for quite some time now. It should suggest in a manner I am uncomfortable attempting to deceive you in that I am attending out of a prior obligation and an academic enthusiasm, and it should attempt to convince that I have not only just begun sorting the arrangements to attend, first and foremost due to my eagerness to spend time in the company of a very fine Lord Omega that has captured the whole of my affections.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How silly, I’m sure you’ll agree, that in this society of ours, the dance of romance is one that tediously avoids the practice of forthright honesty. Despite this, I find it impossible to lie to you, most certainly when it addresses the matter of my fondness for you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I shall see you in Edinburgh. My parents will be in attendance, as should I be so bold as to attend any grand gathering of academic minds and neglect to bring my Ama, I am most certain he would never forgive me. Consequently, I don’t believe he’s gone anywhere without my Apa in the whole of their marriage, thus she will be attending with us. We will be arriving on the twenty-eighth of November and staying at the North British Station Hotel.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Please do inform me of where I might call on you and if I should be so bold as to assume you should be at your place of lodging during tea time. Feel most welcome to call for me whenever you desire, and I shall come to you, wherever you are. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I find myself inexplicably weak in the face of my desire to fulfil your whims. I find, too, that I do not mind this in the slightest and do not care to pretend otherwise.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yours, my dear, and always with the utmost sincerity,  </em>
</p><p><em> Lord Aziraphale Fell </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Viscount Whitefeather </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale turned away from the sunshine, finding a comfort much better suited to morning (though perhaps it wasn’t morning anymore, if the church tower nearby ringing noon was any indication) as he buried his face in the pillow, inhaling the scent of peaches and cinnamon. Blindly, he reached out an arm to find the body next to him, feeling he could greatly benefit from a cuddle, but he was bereft to find the nest empty. He was exhausted, his limbs feeling quite like bags of sand and his thoughts battling to creep along. Despite his suffering, an excited anticipation buzzed beneath the surface of his skin.</p><p>His journey to Edinburgh began the very next morning, and with his rut out of the way, he could look forward to it at long last without a creeping sense of dread poisoning his elation. </p><p>He’d dreamt of Crowley, last night, just as he had all night, every night, since he had last seen him. Soon it wouldn’t be a dream- the beautiful Omega would be waiting for him in Edinburgh, turning the corner to twenty-nine and happier to see him than any person ever had been, no doubt. </p><p>With a scrub of his face, the Alpha rolled to the edge of the nest, grumbling irritably as he recalled that he wasn’t at home. No hot bath would be readied at a moment’s notice and no breakfast would be waiting downstairs for him. </p><p>With a sigh, Aziraphale pushed himself off the bed, struggling with the dichotomy of his physical torment and his emotional high. </p><p>After cleaning up for the morning and spending a bit too long cursing under his breath at the struggle of dressing without his valet, he left the den of the expensive flat he’d funded for five years now, noting the chill in the air. The doors to the balconette were wide open, fine curtains fluttering in the high winds that caught in his morning jacket. Far too much noise was drifting in through the opening from London’s lively district of Notting Hill, and he frowned blearily at the balconette before his eyes shifted and he felt his mind cleared of its mud and fog. In the corner between the windows, he made out a long, slender form from behind an easel, wearing nothing but a dressing gown if the long, bare brown legs were any indication, and leaned far more forward than sitting on a stool might allow, face hidden by the large canvas. </p><p>The kettle was screaming on the range in the small kitchenette, and Aziraphale spared a moment as he went to retrieve it to consider how very like the Omega it was to remain lodged so far into his dream land that even the hideous, shrill whistle hadn’t alerted him. After fixing a couple cups of tea, he brought one over to set at a table near the painter, looking over his shoulder. It was fully sketched, but only half painted- striking little white and red buildings spackled across a cliff side and framed by tropical foliage, the rocky shore descending starkly into a breathtakingly aqua sea. The image was presented in a breath-taking realism only empowered by playfully vivid and surreal coloration. It was far too vibrant to be anywhere near the British Isles, the Alpha was sure.</p><p>Aziraphale tilted his head and smiled, running his hand over the small of the Omega’s back and softening at the surprised little trill it earned. Hazel eyes turned to him. A bright smile crossed the Omega’s face, so lovely against his dark complexion, and the small beauty mark below the corner of his eye lifted with his cheeks. </p><p>“Well, good morning to you. Here I was content to believe you’d sleep until nightfall.”</p><p>A quiet rumble of a chuckle sounded from Aziraphale’s chest, and he smiled warmly, “Good morning, Felix. I might have, only I heard a kettle whistling louder than any locomotive I’ve any encountered.”</p><p>Felix blinked cluelessly before finally turning an absent gaze to the stove. </p><p>“Oh. You-?” </p><p>Before he could finish his sentence, Aziraphale held the teacup out to him. Felix raised his brows at him, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. </p><p>“If you’re at a decent stopping point, of course,” Aziraphale mumbled, grateful when the Omega took the cup. </p><p>“You’re the boss,” Felix teased before taking a sip. <em> Oh, </em> and he knew how Aziraphale <em> loathed </em>that joke. </p><p>“Is that somewhere in Italy?” he huffed, aching to get away from the topic, lest he look at it too closely and remember the ugly truth of it. </p><p>“Mmmh,” the Omega replied, giving the painting a long look, “I think so. Not sure. I remember it though. Might have lived there- or just traveled through. Dunno.” </p><p>With a deep breath in and an exhale that suspiciously likened a wistful sigh, he turned his thoughtful gaze at Aziraphale, a sweet and small but notably troublesome smile growing there that the Alpha had long since learned to be wary of. It was the sort of smile Felix always wore when he’d figured things out that Aziraphale had never been brave enough to confide. </p><p>“So come on, then. Secrets, secrets are no fun.”</p><p>Aziraphale blinked, defaulting to a stance of confusion despite knowing full well that Felix knew even better.</p><p>“I can’t be sure what you mean,” he murmured, acting quite entranced with the little ripples disturbing the amber surface of his tea.</p><p>“Alright. The Omega you’re in love with. The one you haven’t been able to get out of your thoughts the last three days, or even longer, I reckon, though I can’t vouch for that. Tell me about him.” </p><p>Aziraphale sputtered. </p><p>“I wasn’t- I didn’t-,” he began to stammer, but he quickly accepted that it was a futile effort as a dark brow arched in his direction. It wasn’t as if he’d <em> meant </em> to get distracted, it had just… <em> happened. </em>A whine escaped him that turned the Omega’s smile mischievous, and he couldn’t help but pout, “How did you know?” </p><p>“How did I know?” Felix repeated the question, looking quite amused as he handed his cup back to Aziraphale and returned to his painting, “Well, lets see. There’s the fact that I’ve been doing this for fifteen years and am quite aware of when an Alpha is thinking of someone else. There’s the fact that I’ve known <em> you </em>for eight, and not one day out of those have I ever seen you drifting so far from the earth. Then, of course, there’s the fact that you’ve called me ‘Anthony’ at least fifteen times these last few days during intimacy, and I rather think I needn’t have had those other indicators in light of that one.” </p><p>The attempt to stifle his grin was transparent as anything, and Aziraphale slapped his hands to his face, scrubbing it with them as if they had a chance in Hell of rubbing away the embarrassment, guilt, or shame. It was true, Felix was his courtesan, but he was also one of his best, closest, most trusted friends. Surely, he deserved his respect. His attention. </p><p>“None of that, Alpha,” Felix chided as if his soft, soothing, musical voice had the slightest capacity of sounding assertive. </p><p>Aziraphale was helpless but to emerge from the safe harbor of his hands as his fingers were tenderly pulled away and kissed. The painting had all but been forgotten, and Felix was fixing him with a soft, loving smile, his scent of peaches and cinnamon light and fresh. </p><p>He was happy for Aziraphale, truly, and what could the Alpha do but tear up at such tender support? He’d never had to pretend with Felix. Never received the same censure and embarrassment as his vulnerability earned from Raphael. He was free to be and to feel, and it was a phenomenon he had always thought to be impossible to find in an eligible mate until he’d stumbled upon Crowley: until he broke apart in front of him and the Lord Omega had only drawn closer, opening his beautiful heart to him like a flower unfurling to face the sun. </p><p>“I’d very much like it if you told me, Aziraphale. You don’t have to, ‘course. I knew that you could only stay in hiding for so long before some determined Omega saw your wonder and hounded you down, but it would bring me such comfort to know it was someone who deserves you.” </p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale laughed through his emotion, brushing his thumb over Felix’s slim wrist as the brunette wiped his tears away with gentle fingertips, “I daresay if one of us is undeserving, it’s me.” </p><p>Hazel eyes lingered on his expression, the thoughtfulness only broken by a small smile, “Why don’t we go get breakfast- I’m sure you’re famished- and you can tell me all about it.” </p><p>As an answer, Aziraphale’s stomach grumbled boisterously, and he lodged a sheepish grin, “That sounds like a rather marvelous idea, dear.” </p><p>It was a lovely day, and while it was far too cold for Aziraphale’s liking, it was very warm for a London afternoon so late into November. There was no danger in being discovered together, as single elite Alphas outside of courtships were permitted to spend time publicly with their courtesans so long as they did not take them to social events or very exclusive locations. </p><p>The pair took a long turn through the park as Aziraphale rambled on about the Omega that had stolen his affections. His manner of speaking threatened to go on for an eternity. Still, his dearest companion’s interest did not falter, and he remained thoroughly patient and receptive for the entirety of the chat. The Alpha only brought it to a close as they were seated at a quaint little tea-room tucked away down a side-street, realizing how he had run on. </p><p>“Oh dear, you might have stopped me, dear, you know how I get,” he mumbled bashfully.</p><p>Felix gave him an intrigued little smirk, a dark brow quirking beneath the wide brim of his hat.</p><p>“I do, and I know that you only go on like that when something worthy has piqued your interest. I daren’t interrupt,” he teased, hazel eyes glossing over the tea selections, “I am glad that he gave you a chance to explain yourself, even if you didn’t deserve it.” </p><p>It was a wonder, after their eight years of acquaintance, that Aziraphale was still caught off guard when Felix unleashed such brutal honesty with that sweet, musical voice of his, but if he could not have complete honesty with his courtesan sworn to confidence, then he could not have it with anyone. </p><p>“Are you, dear boy?” </p><p>“Yes of course,” Felix encouraged with a genuine smile, “If he hadn’t, he might not have known what a very good, kind, soft-hearted man you are, and he might not have learned how happy you could make him.” </p><p>Aziraphale’s breathing paused for a moment, his heart staggering on the hope of the sentiment.</p><p>“Do you truly think I would?”</p><p>“I haven’t the slightest doubt, m’lord,” the Omega hummed, “And I’ve even less worries that he’ll make you quite happy too.” </p><p>The Alpha sounded a quiet laugh, looking out the window and watching a flock of ducks flying south. He had no doubt of it either, but he didn’t want Felix to send him off with false comforts. He cared whether or not his friend believed it a good choice- a worthy cause to stake his heart and happiness upon. </p><p>“Such a thing to say, my dear, when you’ve never met him.” </p><p>“Mmh, perhaps not, but I’ve known you eight years now, and no book, no story, no new discovery has ever got you all out of sorts like this. Certainly no Omega. It leaves me with no conclusion but that you’ve met your match, Aziraphale,” he hummed, and when Aziraphale looked back, a coy grin was pulling at that lovely face. </p><p>The Alpha pursed his lips in thought, furrowing his brow. </p><p>“I’m going to Edinburgh tomorrow,” he said, aware and uncomfortable with the anxiety in his own scent, the wavering in his voice. </p><p>“To ask him for a courtship?” </p><p>“Yes,” Aziraphale confirmed, loosening his fingers from their fist over the tabletop, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, only-”</p><p>“Only you’re rubbish with goodbyes, I know,” Felix laughed, though for all his grace and whimsy, his scent of peaches dampened and dulled in a telling sadness. He reached out, ever the braver of the two, and squeezed Aziraphale’s fingers. </p><p>The Alpha looked down at the gentle gloved fingers gripping his strong, thick ones, and were they not in public, he mightn’t have desperately fought the tears gathering in his eyes. He turned his palm upwards, grasping the slim hand in return and keeping his eyes low. He couldn’t look at Felix’s face, he knew. If he did, he would be helpless but to fall to pieces. </p><p>“Is this wrong of me? Am I to leave you to the devices of some other Alpha who could treat you terribly?” </p><p>“Oh, love, you know I’d never agree to be contracted by a single Alpha- not any one that wasn’t you. I like getting to meet new people, learn new things, be free to decide for meself. I s’pose I’ll go back to my old lodgings, they always took care of me there. </p><p>The corner of Aziraphale’s mouth wavered, and he shook his head. It wasn’t right. Already, he was losing Felix from his life, and in all that time, he had taken care of the Omega. He’d ensured he was safe, in lodgings he liked, free to make friends with those he pleased and enjoy whatever pursuits he fancied. Not only was he abandoning him, but he was taking back everything he’d ever given. At the very least, it felt as much. </p><p>“I should give you a severance- one hundred pounds for every year you’ve been so kind as to have been my companion.”</p><p>“Five hundred quid?! I’ve always known you were mad, Alpha, but<em> that-”  </em></p><p>“Would ease my nerves ever so, were you to take it, and I mean the year before I met Raphael, as well, so six hundred, rather.” Aziraphale interrupted, attempting to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail, “You should go to Paris, if you like, or back to Italy. Find some marvelous artists like yourself, be recognized for your talent and not your history. Be happy, and it will make it much easier for me to do the same. You can do whatever you’d like, Felix, but it should be for you to decide.” </p><p>He dared to raise his eyes to meet Felix’s at long last, and the Omega was looking back at him with a heart-wrenching, bittersweet tenderness. He didn’t speak, nor did he show any intention to do so. Instead, he gave a gentle, genuine smile. </p><p>“Do I- could… could I write to you?” Aziraphale whimpered despite knowing the answer, his chest aching with a hollow, reverberating hurt. </p><p>“I don’t think that would be a very good way to show this Lord Anthony of yours how serious you are, eh?” Felix teased half-heartedly. </p><p>“No… I suppose it wouldn’t be,” the Alpha agreed quietly. Despite himself, his vision grew blurry, and he squeezed the Omega’s hand all the more tightly before pleading with him, “Am I doing the wrong thing?” </p><p>Hazel eyes pivoted earnestly between each of his blue ones, and Felix breathed in a laugh, “Absolutely <em> not, </em> Aziraphale! It’s just- this thing between us has been <em> safe </em>for you, which is only understandable that for so long, it’s what you needed, but that’s not real. You’re a careful, clever person, but love is dangerous and it makes you so stupid and- and that’s not natural for you. It’s the grandest risk you could ever take, with the most worthy award, so sometimes, it will feel frightening, but-”</p><p>An honest, wistful smile battled to win over his face, and he blinked away the tears in his own glistening eyes, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand with equal fervor before pleading, “It will be ever such an adventure, more so than any of those in that grand library of yours.” </p><p>Aziraphale did his best to lodge a wavering smile at Felix, the warm glow of his heart at the idea of it doing a bang-up job of alleviating the pain of the forming cracks.</p><p>“I’ll miss you,” he tried.</p><p>“No,” Felix laughed, ducking his head, “you shall be far too happy with your Lord Omega to miss me, especially if he listens to you and challenges you in the ways you say. I imagine he’ll be the best friend you could ever dream to have, and a better companion than I could ever be in my stature.” </p><p>The guilt of it cut deep, and Aziraphale furrowed his brows, lowering his eyes for only a moment before Felix ducked his head to catch his gaze. </p><p>“Aziraphale, I shall <em> always </em>be there to love you when you need an Omega to do so, but you won’t. This Lord Anthony sounds just as keen on you as you are on him, and I’m ever so happy for it. I reckon by this time next year, you’ll be happily married and mated with a pup on the way.”</p><p>Despite himself, a smile pulled the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth upwards at the thought. He hoped Felix was right. Truly, Anthony seemed more smitten with him than anyone ever had been, but it seemed too great a wish that he might remain so, that he ever might truly choose him to be his life-long Alpha. Still, the Omega’s words rang true. It was the greatest risk he could fathom to take, but there was nothing in the world he could ever desire more as a reward. </p><p>“Just promise me something?” Felix intervened, quietly. </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes flickered upwards, and he spoke with a resounding earnestness, “Anything, Felix.”  </p><p>“I know that after what you’ve been through, you feel compelled to protect your heart. You’re right to do so, of course, but just-” Felix sighed, smiling softly and searching the Alpha’s eyes, “Promise me you won’t put his in harm’s way in the process.” </p><p>“I swear it,” Aziraphale vowed without a moment’s hesitation. </p><p>And with every fiber of his being and every word he’d ever read to make him who he was, he meant it. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Everyone in Aziraphale’s life: please for the love of god stop thinking so much<br/>Crowley’s Apa: use just one brain cell I’m begging you </p><p>Just gonna nip this in the bud if anyone was thinking it: Felix is not the jealous lover lol, he’s Aziraphale’s best friend, and Aziraphale is forfeiting any contact or relationship with him because Crowley is worth the risk 💜 on that note, this wouldn’t be considered cheating. It’s expected for Alphas outside of courtship to see a courtesan (or more than one if they’d like), and it definitely makes things less dangerous during rut. Most sponsor a single one, as without a mate they have essentially no Omega to confide or seek comfort in. (Of course, High society Omegas are supposed to be oblivious of this, and naturally Aziraphale would never talk to Crowley, an Omega he’s attempting to woo, about his courtesan 😂 ) </p><p>PLEASE check out this awesome artwork done of BAMF Aziraphale by @Mordelle !!!! 💜🙏😭 I’m so grateful! </p><p>https://mordellestories.tumblr.com/post/649024518223020032/show-chapter-archive</p><p>Thank you for your comments and support 🥰🥰🥰🥰 feel free to ask me any questions you like, either in the comments or on tumblr (getwrexed.tumblr.com)</p>
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